Autobot Academy
by Dragonflyr
Summary: [G1 AU]What if the Ark was found before anyone woke up and the Transformers were modified into human piloted war machines? Could they ever wake up and what would they do? The answer could mean the destruction of Earth and the end of the Cybertronian war.
1. Pilot

Okay, so this is my first official dive into the world of Transformer's fanfiction and I hope you all enjoy it. I know this is a weird idea for this fandom but I swear it works. This chapter's human-heavy just because I have to introduce everyone. All the characters introduced in this chapter are the main pilots and I challenge all you readers to figure out who goes with which Autobot. It's really fairly straight forward; I think you should be able to figure it out. And don't worry Decepticon lovers, Megatron and the Seekers will be in here, just not right away. We have to get some fun background stuff out of the way first.

Disclaimer: All robot characters belong to HasTak and I lay no claim on them whatsoever, though the majority of the humans are mine and you can't have them. Enjoy!

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Eliza looked up at the pristine white building from the tinted windows of the limo's back seat in awe. She had never been outside of the orphanage before. This building was about the same size but newer, as it had been built after the war, and it exuded a sense of authority and power, though she couldn't say why. It was an ordinary building like any other, though the high metal fence surrounding it was suitably intimidating.

As the car pulled up she saw a crowd of a few dozen teenagers standing outside the gates, all wearing visitor's passes like her. So this was her competition. A few months ago The Regime had issued a test worldwide—or maybe that was nationwide, but then they were the same thing now—offering a scholarship to the Tranquility Military Academy. The school accepted only the most elite applicants and the tuition was outrageous. In truth she didn't really want to be there, but she had scored high enough to be a finalist and there was no way to decline. Besides, it was probably the only chance she would ever get to improve her station. An orphan didn't have many options.

The car stopped and the man in the back seat with her, who had been unnervingly quiet, got out and held the door open for her. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the open air, trying her best not to appear nervous or overwhelmed. The man nodded to her and then got back into the car, which promptly left. She swallowed as he left and her mouth went dry.

She had never been good with strangers, part of the reason she had never been adopted. Every time a couple would come to look at her she would shy away and become too tongue-tied to even talk to them. Now in the crowd she experienced the familiar anxiety of having so many strangers around her and clenched her fists to keep her arms from shaking. All of them were here for the same reason as her and it unnerved her. She tried to push back the feelings of self doubt and turned to stare up at the building again, trying to pinpoint where the strange feeling she was getting from it was coming from.

She stood out there with the others for another twenty minutes while half a dozen more cars pulled up to dispose half a dozen more finalists on the pavement before the closed gates leading to the school. As they waited many of the finalists began to talk amongst themselves. Eliza stayed at the edge of the crowd to avoid socializing, but listened in on the conversations.

"This is where they keep them right?"

"Yeah, and this is where the pilots come from."

"There's eight, right?"

"Yeah, and they're all kids from the school."

"No. Not all of them. I heard one was a teacher."

"You know what I heard? I heard this whole test is to find a new pilot!"

"What? Really?!"

"A pilot? For which one? Are there any left?"

"I don't know. I think there's a bunch left actually."

Eliza listened with only half an idea of what they were talking about. The schooling she had received at the orphanage was minimal at best and hardly covered history or current events. They preferred to shield the children as best they could from the harsh realities of the world.

She frowned. By "pilots" she assumed they meant the pilots for the NBE Robotic Fighting Units that The Regime had won the war with. They were supposedly alien robotic beings from outer space that had been discovered nearly a hundred years ago and were rebuilt and reprogrammed during the war to be controlled by human pilots. If she remembered the bits of rumors she had heard right, The Regime still controlled a few of them but another group had been lost to the black market shortly after the war. One of them was supposed to be a new pilot? But why? If what they said was true and the children at this academy became pilots, then why not use one of them?

She was still pondering these questions when the gates swung slowly opened and she looked up to see two people come out to greet them. One was tall and handsome, a young twenty-something man with bright hazel eyes and sandy hair. The girl beside him looked a year or so older than Eliza. She stood straight and proud with piercing blue eyes and blond hair pulled back in a tight and orderly braid. Her uniform was neatly pressed and she had a strict, no nonsense attitude.

"Welcome," the man said with a wide grin. "Welcome, all you lucky finalists, to the Tranquility Military Academy. My name is Dr. Jacobs and one of you might have the privilege of gracing my biology class at the end of all of this." His greeting was met with cheers and clapping. Only Eliza remained quiet, thinking again of pilots. The girl beside him glanced at him and cleared her throat. He jumped, as though having forgot she was there.

"Oh, ah, and this is Miss Amelia Platt. She is somewhat of a…uh…student president, I suppose," Dr. Jacobs introduced awkwardly. Eliza wondered at the odd hesitation in his introduction but didn't have time to dwell on it too much as the girl stepped forward and fixed them all with a steely glare that dared someone to try something.

"There will be no talking. Follow me," she said curtly. Jacobs gave her a nudge with his elbow and a look when she would have turned around. The girl glared at him and then appeared to hold back a sigh. "Congratulations on getting this far," she added through gritted teeth. Jacobs smiled and winked at the group before turning to follow as Amelia lead the way to the academy's front doors.

The group of candidates followed their chaperones up the academy's massive front steps to the large front doors over which hung a Latin phrase that no doubt meant something about peace and prosperity but Amelia interrupted and swept them along when Jacobs tried to explain it. The entrance hall appeared like something out of a castle and it was from there that their tour began.

Most of it was a blur to Eliza. Amelia strutted down the hall with determined purpose, turning once in a while to glare at someone in the crowd who dared to whisper. Jacobs on the other hand fell back into the crowd itself and became the chief cause of most of the whispers as he attempted to hurriedly point out the many classrooms they passed.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when suddenly there was a deafening boom from a classroom further down the seemingly endless hall they were currently touring. A door flung opened and coughing students tripped over each other to get out as black smoke billowed into the hallway.

"Louis," Jacobs sighed, shaking his head, and Eliza jumped to find he had fallen in step beside her at the back of the crowd. He began to make his way through the crowd to the front once more and Eliza followed out of curiosity. When they got to the front he hurried forward and Eliza hung back, just a few steps behind an impatient Amelia.

The teacher went forward to a coughing child a bit removed from the others and who seemed to be the target of many accusing glares. Black soot covered his front but Eliza could still make out the shock of red hair. He was currently trying to wipe the black smears off his glasses.

"Louis, how many times have I told you?" Jacobs demanded, checking the boy for injuries.

"It was an experiment," the boy replied, replacing his semi-clean glasses.

Jacobs fixed him with a stern look and would have said something else but Amelia cleared her throat and interrupted him. He glanced at her and then back at the boy.

"I want to see you in my office later, understood?" he said sternly.

"Yes, sir," Louis replied sheepishly.

"Sorry about that," Jacobs said when he rejoined the group. Amelia huffed and turned them down an adjacent hallway. Eliza lingered for a moment, still staring at the soot covered boy, before reclaiming her place at the back of the group.

They hadn't gone far when Amelia stopped before a seemingly random door.

"If your visitor's pass has a number between one and ten you are to go in this room now," she instructed icily. Jacobs nudged her and she added an emotionless "Please," as she opened the door.

As a group everyone looked down at the visitor's passes pinned to their shirts. Eliza was number 30. The first ten detached from the group and entered the room as instructed and without another word Amelia closed the door and started down the hallway again. The group glanced at each other and then at the door in confusion but slowly followed when Jacobs gave them a reassuring smile.

They passed more hallways and staircases, all a blur of tile and marble. Two hours slipped away like this before they found themselves in the entrance hall again.

"Numbers 11 through 20 come with me now, please," Amelia instructed them, straining the "please" with a pointed look at Jacobs.

"The rest of you come with me," Jacobs invited with a wide, friendly smile. His group looked decidedly happier as the remaining finalists parted ways.

"I bet you're all hungry, right?" Jacobs asked with a grin. Some of the remaining ten finalists nodded eagerly while others mainly grinned. Eliza remained impassive and tried to hide the sound of her growling stomach.

"Well, aren't you the lucky ones? We have time to get some lunch before…well, before the tour's over," he announced as he led them through a set of tall doors and into a large cafeteria that Eliza thought was bigger than her whole orphanage was. She didn't miss when he hesitated in his explanation again, but hunger won out over curiosity and she quickly followed the others to get in line for a free meal.

A girl about her age and a younger boy joined the line behind her. She tried to pretend like she didn't notice when they both looked at her and the other finalists curiously. The girl had brown pigtails and freckles and warm brown eyes. The boy shared her eyes and freckles, his own brown hair an unruly mop on his head.

"Are you one of them?" the boy finally asked. She looked at him in surprise and felt her terrible shyness swallow her up like it always did.

"O-one of who?" she asked, feeling her mouth go dry.

"Tommy!" the girl reprimanded, hitting him lightly on the head. The boy gave an indignant cry and reached up to feel his head but the girl ignored him and turned to Eliza. "Hello. I'm Isabelle, but you can call me Izzy. And this is my tactless brother, Tommy."

She just looked at them for a moment before whispering, "I'm Eliza."

"So are you one of them?" Tommy asked again eagerly, earning him another reprimanding smack to the head.

"What my brother is trying so skillfully to find out is if you're one of the candidates for the Model Zero," Izzy explained with a friendly smile.

"Model Zero?" Eliza asked, remembering the rumors the other finalists had been discussing. Brother and sister exchanged looks.

"They didn't tell you?" Izzy asked with frown.

"Tell me what?" she asked curiously. She didn't receive an answer, however, for at that moment the hall exploded in noise. Eliza jumped in surprise and turned just in time to have something sticky and moist hit her in the face and slide down her front.

"NICK! JASON!" Izzy screamed, leaving the line and stalking over to two boys. Eliza wiped the sticky substance off her face, Tommy attempting to help with napkins, and saw Izzy yelling at the same boy standing side by side. No, not the same boy, twins, she realized as she blinked crumbs and goo from her eyes. The twins shared dark brown hair and forest green eyes, identical mischievous smirks decorating both their faces.

"Maybe you should go clean up in the bathroom," Tommy suggested. She looked down at herself and nodded, barely catching his directions to the bathroom.

In the bathroom she did her best to wash what appeared to be some kind of pie out of her hair and got most of it off her face, though her baggy sweater was hopelessly stained. A red blotch spread across her chest and she frowned at her reflection. Finally deciding there was nothing else she could do she sighed and left the bathroom, only to discover that she had no idea where she was.

Tommy's directions had completely fled her mind. She looked down the deserted hallways, none of which offered her a clue as to where to go. Panic and nerves began to overcome her and she looked down the barren hallways more anxiously. Just as she was about to start shouting down the hall, however, a new sound made her stop.

Light and melodious music filled the air. At first it was nothing but light scales, but soon it had become a quick, uplifting rhythm that she knew must have taken great skill to produce. Mesmerized, she followed the sound down one of the empty hallways. The melody carried her steps forward until she suddenly found herself in front of the room where the music was coming from.

She stepped up to the door and peered in the window in amazement. A boy a bit older than her was standing in the middle of the room playing expertly on a violin. He swayed in place, fingers flying over the strings while broken hairs floated through the air from his sawing bow. She watched opened mouth as he waltzed around the room to the music he created and she found herself swaying in place as well, compelled to move by the beautiful song.

Then he turned and caught sight of her and abruptly the music stopped. Eliza gasped and ducked down below the window, crouching against the door. She nearly fell over when the door opened and she looked up sheepishly to see him staring down at her. He had long black hair, almost too long for a boy, and eyes so dark brown they appeared black as well. She swallowed nervously.

"Hello? Can I help you?" he asked, titling his head and smiling a bit. His violin was tucked under one arm and he twirled the bow absently in his hand. She stood up slowly, noticing that he was still about a head taller than her even when she stood at her full height.

"Um…I'm kind of…lost," she explained nervously. He frowned for a moment and then smiled when he caught sight of her stained visitor's pass.

"Ah. I see now. I forgot that was today," he said with a friendly smile. "Lost your group then, did you?" She nodded slowly and he smiled even wider, extending his free hand for her to shake. "Well I'm Aaron."

"E-Eliza," she replied, shaking his hand stiffly.

"Did you enjoy the performance?" he smirked, proffering his violin.

"Yes, very much," she said sincerely, smiling before she realized what she had said and quickly backtracked. "I-I mean…I didn't mean to be spying on you or anything…I just, I heard it down the hall and—" she cut off awkwardly as he began to laugh.

"It's alright. I don't mind," he assured her. "Now, let's get you back to your group. You weren't with Amelia were you?" She shook her head.

"No…a man…Jacobs, I think his name was." Aaron nodded and she continued. "We were in the cafeteria and I got caught in the middle of a food fight," she explained, gesturing to the stain on her front. For some reason she felt her shyness slipping away. He was very easy to talk to.

"Don't tell me, let me guess. The twins started it, right? Brown hair, green eyes, devil horns?" She laughed and nodded as he began to lead her down the hallway. "Well then it's a good thing Amelia wasn't there, good for them I mean." She laughed again. As they continued down the hallway she mulled over everything that had happened today.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked hesitantly, silently amazed that she was carrying on such a lengthy conversation with this stranger.

"Well you just did, but sure. What do you wanna know?" he smirked down at her.

"Could you tell me…what's a Model Zero?"

He paused and looked at her, his face serious now. She fidgeted awkwardly under his gaze, wondering if she should have asked that. Finally he sighed.

"I never did agree with their decision not to tell you," he said, shaking his head. "It isn't right to bring you all here without letting you know what you're in store for." Fear settled in the pit of her stomach.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice a nervous whisper. He opened his mouth to answer but didn't get the chance.

"There you are." They both turned to see Jacobs standing at the end of the hallway somehow managing to look both annoyed and relieved. Eliza stuttered to explain but Aaron beat her to it.

"I found your little lost ducking and treated her to a concert. I was just on my way to return her, Doc," he smiled, winking at Eliza. Jacobs' frown deepened but then disappeared with a sigh.

"Well I'm glad you found her," he said finally. "Now let's go. The others have already gone. You're the only one left," he said a bit more sternly to Eliza.

"Sorry," she said quietly as he turned to go back down the hall and she hurried to follow him. She looked back at Aaron who smiled and gave her a thumbs up. She returned the gesture. For the first time that day she really hoped she was the one who got to stay.

Jacobs led her down yet another set of maze-like halls. This time, however, they arrived at a large elevator that seemed somehow removed from the rest of the school. As they stepped inside she felt the same odd, powerful feeling she had felt outside while looking up at the building. The feeling grew as they began to move down.

The elevator reached its destination and they stepped out to find a pair of huge metal doors. Jacobs ran a keycard over a sensor and they slid opened with slow force. She blinked in the bright light and followed him dumbly as he started inside. Something huge loomed in a corner of the room though her eyes hadn't adjusted enough yet for her to make it out. A few adults were standing around a computer console in the middle of the room. Amelia stood next to them looking very impatient. She opened her mouth, presumably to scold Eliza, but Jacobs held up a hand to stop her.

"Ready?" he asked the men around the computer. They looked like scientists. All of them nodded and mumbled affirmatives. Amelia folded her arms and began to tap her foot, looking more impatient than ever.

Eliza's slow mind took in the room in pieces. She saw the computers and the thick wires snaking across the floor to them. She followed the wires slowly with her eyes and saw they draped over something huge and blue…a massive foot. The foot led to a leg which led to a torso, the wires originating from an opened section in the chest that housed what looked like an airplane cockpit. Her eyes crept further upward and took in two giant arms and wide, broad shoulders. An enormous blue head, the lower half covered by a metal mask, sat stoically atop the strong shoulders. She felt her legs go weak. The rumors were true.

"—need you to get in the cockpit," Jacobs was saying. She shook her head and looked at him as though he'd grown another head.

"What?" she asked slowly as though just waking from a dream. Jacobs sighed, seeing she hadn't been paying attention.

"This is the real reason you are here. We need a pilot for the Model Zero. None of the others we have tried have been compatible with him. He's a bit stubborn," he added, throwing a look at the massive robot. "You're the only one left. We need you to climb up into the cockpit so we can test your compatibility." He nodded at a cherry picker that sat before the robot, ready to hoist her up to the opened chest cavity.

She gulped and looked at him but he had put a hand on her back and was already gently propelling her towards the giant robot. Her mouth went dry and she found she couldn't even protest when the cherry picker began to rise slowly up the length of the blue and red body. All she could hope was that she would be no different than any of the others; that she would prove incompatible and they would let her leave.

He helped her move clumsily into the chair and she felt a wave of vertigo as she looked down. The scientists at the computer were all watching her anxiously while Amelia glared up at her. Eliza bit her lip and sunk further back into the seat. The feeling of power was washing over now and she could feel warmth behind her seat. A mildly annoying ringing sound assaulted her ears.

"Put your feet on those pedals and grab those levers gently. Don't push or pull anything, just let him know you're here," Jacobs explained. She moved shaking limbs as he requested, concentrating on keeping her arms and legs from jerking and hitting something on accident. The moment she successfully set her feet on the pedals and wrapped her finger around the levers the warmth radiating from behind her exploded and the strange feeling she'd had all day flooded her. The ringing rose to a high buzz that filled her head until she was deaf to everything else. Somewhere far below she saw the scientists shout excitedly and Amelia's glare darkened. Jacobs smiled at her gently. Then she passed out.


	2. Names

Wow. I can't believe what a response I got for the first chapter of this. I'm so glad you guys all like it and I hope I won't ever disappoint you all now or in the future. Unfortunately I doubt I'll be able to update more than once a week and some weeks not even that depending on how insane my life gets. I'll do my best to keep the chapters coming as fast as I can though. Here's the next bit. Enjoy!

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Light ringing still assaulted her ears. The red warmth of bright lights shone through her eyelids and she weakly raised a shielding arm before attempting to open them. The world was fuzzy and over stimulating. Jacobs was kneeling over her. His mouth was moving but only white noise filled her ears. Her eyes moved sluggishly away from him and stopped on the massive blue foot to her left. She blanched and sat up suddenly, nearly hitting Jacobs as she did. He caught her shoulders when she would have fallen back.

"—ake it easy! You need to relax," some of his words finally started to penetrate her foggy brain. She blinked at him stupidly, trying to keep her gaze from wandering to the terrifying metal monster again.

"She can't even handle a simple compatibility test. How's she going to pilot it?"

"Amelia, you were no better off after your first time and you know it," Jacobs shot over his shoulder. The teenager's face flushed in indignation but she fell silent. Eliza watched her lazily.

"W-what…happened?" Eliza croaked out.

"You were compatible with the Model Zero," Jacobs explained patiently, pausing as her eyes struggled to focus on him. "Unfortunately, that means you are very sensitive to his energy signature and that can tend to be a little overwhelming at first." She remembered the warmth and power centered behind her head in the cockpit. Slowly she turned to stare up at the red and blue behemoth again. His stoic, lifeless gaze looked out over the room from a dizzying height. She was an insect in comparison.

"Can you walk?" Jacobs' question made her blink and look at him again. He took a firmer hold on her shoulders and gently helped her to stand. She swayed and had to grab his arm for balance.

"You'll feel better once you've slept for a while. The infirmary is closer than the dormitories. You can recover there," he said, slowly helping her out of the room and away from the Model Zero.

Her dreams were strange.

Metal titans raged war on a strange, colorless landscape. Perpetual twilight was lit by shattering bursts of gunfire. As she watched the scene, however, it was not the action of the battle that caught her attention but the fighting figures. She had never witnessed anything like them before and yet she felt an odd connection to them.

A black and white with metal wings dodged a blast and she found herself holding her breath until he was clear of danger. Two beings that she knew instinctively functioned as a pair, one yellow and one red, rushed forward into the battle. Fear coursed through her as well as a flash of annoyance, and yet there was a sense of fond respect at their recklessness too.

She caught sight of a small yellow being and couldn't stop the prideful smile as he moved expertly through the barrage of gunfire, his grace belying his short, stocky appearance. Another red, this one broader and older, was hit in the shoulder and she felt a pang of worry and rage. She watched as a white and red, obviously a medic, rushed to help while two others provided cover fire, one another white and black with what appeared to be horns and the other white and gray with a mask over his lower face and flashing ear-like appendages on either side of his head.

She didn't have time to feel gratitude for them, however, and in a flash all the other feelings of worry and fear were banished as well. She had to protect them if she could and not let them distract her if she couldn't. That was her duty.

There was a deafening blast of shots and she turned to engage the enemy. She raised her arm and saw the bulky red and blue mass that was not her arm.

A strangled scream filled the room as she shot upright, sweaty and panting.

"You can't be having dreams already." She turned to see Jacobs frowning at her thoughtfully. He now wore a white lab coat and peered curiously at numerous monitors beside her bed. Eliza blinked and looked down to find electrodes and sensors on various parts of her body. Her bed was confined in a small cubical of white curtain, cutting her off from what she felt must be a much larger room.

"This is unbelievable!" Jacobs breathed, drawing her attention again. He was staring intently at one of the screens. She thought it led to some of the sensors on her head, but there were so many wires it was hard to tell.

"What is?" asked Eliza quietly.

"These readings…this is incredible!" Jacobs responded distractedly. Eliza stifled the urge to sigh or roll her eyes.

"Exactly what about them is incredible?" she tried to be more specific. He smiled broadly and turned the monitor so she could see two spiky lines on the screen. He pointed to the top line, distortions fanning across the plasma surface where his finger touched the screen.

"This line represents the activity in the Model Zero's processor, his 'brain' if you will. Just so you know, before this afternoon he's never given us readings as active as this," he explained, as though that fact was supposed to have some profound meaning to Eliza. He moved his finger to the bottom line. "And this line is your brain waves. Notice anything?"

Eliza watched the two lines dance rapidly across the screen in sporadic bursts. The bottom line spiked and dipped and a second later the top line did the same. The pattern repeated, the top line always echoing the bottom line. She frowned and looked at him for clarification.

"He's responding to you!" Jacobs cried enthusiastically. "Much more thoroughly and quickly than I've ever seen before!" She frowned at him.

"Responding to me? What does that mean, exactly?" He answered her question with a question of his own.

"You had a dream about him, didn't you?" She didn't answer so he continued, "And you were him, weren't you?" The color drained from her face. "I assure you it's a fairly normal occurrence, although not nearly so soon. It's a side effect of the compatibility. You're accessing his memories subconsciously. I can't tell you why it happens, but we all experience it at some point."

Eliza felt a headache coming on. She shook her head and brought a hand up to massage one temple. "So, he's…in my head?" Jacobs nodded and she sighed. "What does all of this mean for me?"

"Well, you're a pilot now," he said simply.

"That's it? Just like that?"

Jacobs sighed. "It is a little strange, I know," he admitted. "But...well, we had no other choice, really. He needed a pilot."

"Why did he need a pilot so badly?" She frowned and cocked her head to the side. Since the war pilots had been named whenever someone at the school was lucky enough to be compatible, that much she knew. She had never heard of them going out of their way to find a pilot before. Jacobs fidgeted and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

"The Model Zero is different from the others. He has a…power source in him that the others don't." He shrugged. "The Regime has been trying to study it but, as I said before, he can be rather stubborn. He doesn't like to cooperate. They're hoping that a pilot might help things along a bit."

"So welcome to the team Eliza!" Aaron declared as he suddenly appeared from behind the curtain. "I knew you could do it," he winked at her, causing her to blush. Then the meaning of his words sunk in.

"Wait, you're a pilot too?"

"Ya-yup," he smirked. "And the Doc here too," he added, putting a hand on Jacob's shoulder.

She blinked. "You are?" The fuzzy details of the moments after meeting the Model Zero came back to her. "What about Amelia?"

"Uh-uh," Aaron beamed. "Actually, you've gone and usurped her spot as leader. As you can imagine, she's a little upset."

"Usurped? Leader? What?" Eliza's headache doubled in intensity and she closed her eyes briefly as she tried to absorb everything.

"Oh yeah," Aaron nodded thoughtfully. "She wanted the Model Zero but they weren't compatible so she ended up with the Model One. She doesn't much like playing second fiddle, our Amelia."

"Second to who?" she asked weakly.

"Why, second to you, of course. You've got the Model Zero," Aaron laughed. Eliza's eyes went wide and she suddenly jumped up, ripping the sensors off her body.

"Oh no! No, no. You've got the wrong person!" she insisted, backing away from them. "I'm not, NOT, cut out to be a l-leader. Really. You'd be much better off with someone else!"

"Big red and blue picked you," Aaron said gently, taking a step forward and causing her to scramble back around the bed.''

"No, there must be some mistake. I'm not the one you want!" Eliza shook her head fiercely. Unbidden tears stung her eyes and she fell to her knees, crouching behind the bed. "Just let me go…let me go back to the orphanage…I don't want this! I want to go back!"

The teacher and the boy exchanged a look. Aaron slowly made his way around the bed, a carefully constructed nonthreatening look of comfort and nonviolence on his face that a person usually reserves for frightened animals.

"Now just calm down," he murmured soothingly, slowly lowering himself to crouch at her level. "I know you didn't ask for this, none of us did, and I know it must be worse for you than for most, dragging you in here like this. But it's really not all that bad, I promise." He extended a hand to gently lift her tearstained face and smiled at her warmly. "Besides, you're not alone. No more of that, okay? It's all going to be alright, you'll see."

Eliza sniffed and found herself nodding slightly at his words. Once she realized what she was doing she was amazed by the reaction. There had only ever been one other person who could comfort her like that.

"I know. How about I go gather the rest of the gang and you can meet them, alright? How does that sound?" Aaron offered. It didn't sound very appealing to her, honestly, but she found herself nodding at his words again. His speech had a strange power over her that made it impossible to refuse him.

"Alright!" he cheered happily, standing and offering her a hand which she took, again feeling like a puppet dancing on his strings. "Give me ten minutes and meet me in the hanger," he announced before hurrying back through the curtain and out of her confined, white world. The sense of comfort and calm left with him and she looked at Jacobs awkwardly, leaning on the bed as her legs began to shake. The teacher sighed and ran a hand through his sandy hair.

"I am sorry about this," said Jacobs sincerely. "It's unfair of us to dump all this responsibly on you. If there was anything I could do…" he shook his head, "But there isn't. The best I can do is assure you that you can come to me or Aaron or any of us whenever you need someone. Even Amelia" he finished with a smile. Eliza just stared at him, feeling strangely that he might bow to her like royalty and pledge his services to her at any moment. It didn't help the fine tremors running down her spine.

"Uh…thank you," she replied hesitantly, concentrating on keeping her breathing steady to avoid another breakdown. "So…I guess I should go to the hanger…where's that?" Jacobs brightened at the subject change.

"That is where the Fighters are kept," he explained. "We moved the Model Zero to the repair bay for the compatibility test, but he's back with the others in the hanger now. I can show you the way," he offered with a smile. Eliza bit her lip but nodded slowly. Her only other option was to stay here and oddly enough, despite her preference for solitude, she had no desire to be alone.

With shaky, hesitant steps she walked around the bed and followed Jacobs as he led her out of her white walled safety net. As she had expected the room beyond was much larger. A high ceiling towered overhead, chandeliers dangling in a row down the center of the room. The edges were lined with two neat rows of beds, nearly all of which were vacant.

It was a physical effort to force one foot in front of the other as she teetered after him. He led her out of the large room and back into the featureless hallway, all the while chattering about something but she didn't hear any of it. She couldn't remember how she had gotten to the infirmary before and felt panic threatening to overwhelm her again at the realized that she would be staying here now and would have to learn how to navigate these confusing halls.

Eventually they came to the elevator once more. She hesitated to go in, lingering just inside the hallway and staring down at the dark line separating the floor from the elevator.

"Eliza?" Jacobs asked quietly. She looked up almost guiltily, like a child caught sleeping in class. She glanced down again and clenched her fists before forcing herself to take the step into the elevator. Her stomach seemed to drop much more violently than it should have when the room jerked downward.

"This afternoon we were in the repair day, that's level B2," he pointed out the corresponding button. "Where we're going now is the hanger, that's B1." Eliza nodded, only half absorbing the information. Some part of her was still expecting to wake up while the rest of her was almost sick with the knowledge that she wasn't going to. Her knees nearly gave out when the elevator stopped, a small ding from somewhere overhead announcing their arrival as the doors slid opened.

Eliza felt her whole body begin to shake when she saw it—him—again. Light reflected regally off his immaculate paintjob and the dark optics mirrored the expansive room. That feeling of power and strength that radiated from him washed over her again and she felt painfully insignificant.

Slowly, almost hypnotically, she drifted across the room, eyes glued to those vacant optics. The closer she got the more she felt the whisper of something in the very back of her mind. It wasn't words or emotions really but just a faint presence that seemed confused and almost groggy.

A small squeak of surprise escaped her and she nearly fell over when a hand touched her shoulder. The presence evaporated like smoke and she was left blinking stupidly at Jacobs. The teacher looked between her and the giant robot with a frown. He opened his mouth to say something but was mercifully interrupted by a cry from the elevator.

Two figures were waving as they crossed the enormous room and Eliza's eyes widened when she realized she knew them. "Tommy?" his name slowly came back to her along with his sister's, "Izzy?" The siblings grinned as they stopped before her.

"So you _were_ one of them! I knew it!" Tommy exclaimed. His sister rolled her eyes and bopped him on the head again.

"He never learns," she shook her head and then grinned at Eliza in an abrupt about-face. "Congratulations, rookie. It's good to have you." She slapped Eliza on the back hard enough to make her stumble forward a few steps.

"Uh…thanks," she muttered.

"So you got the Model Zero, huh? Lucky," Izzy continued. "Tommy and I have got Three and Four over there." She nodded her head in the direction behind Eliza.

Eliza blinked and slowly turned to look over her shoulder. Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and her mouth suddenly went dry. The Model Zero was not the only metal giant in the room. Somehow in her focus on him she had missed the eight other towering figures lined up against the back wall.

"The red one there," Izzy pointed out hers. He was tall and red and Eliza blinked as she recognized him from her dream. She remembered watching him get hit and the presence tickled the back of her consciousness again. "Ironhide," she whispered, suddenly knowing that was his name. Izzy frowned and looked at her strangely.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" The presence receded a bit and Eliza shook her head. "I didn't tell anyone but…" she trailed off and turned to look at her brother.

"I didn't tell anyone!" Tommy cried defensively. "Honest, I didn't." The siblings looked at each other and then turned to stare at Eliza again, who shifted her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"Guess mine," Tommy suddenly requested. Eliza stiffened and blinked down at him.

"Go on. The little yellow one," he pointed. "Guess his name!" He watched her expectantly the way a person watches an animal about to perform a trick. For once Izzy didn't reprimand him as she too was scrutinizing Eliza. The girl swallowed and looked to Jacobs for help, but he wore the same eager expression. Nervously she turned to stare at the distant robots again, wondering what would happen if she was unable to identify Tommy's fighting unit.

Next to Ironhide stood the smaller form of a yellow robot with a more rounded chest and horns on his head. He had been in the dream too; the graceful little fighter who she had felt such pride and fondness for. The presence, the Model Zero's presence, she realized, whispered through her mind again and in an instant the name was on her lips. "Bumblebee." She almost smiled as she said it. The name fit him.

"Wow!" Tommy cried enthusiastically. "That's right! How'd you know that?" Eliza shrugged helplessly. It was one thing to share dreams but she was sure they would think she was crazy if she said she felt the robot in her head.

"The names are not common knowledge," Jacobs explained at her confused and lost look. "We've found it strengthens compatibility when the names are known only to the pilots," he said, casting a glance at the siblings, no doubt a reprimand for telling each other the secret. "And besides that, they don't usually reveal any names but their own," he added, again glancing between her and the Model Zero.

"Oh…sorry," she said uncertainly but the teacher shook his head and quickly backtracked.

"No, no. Don't apologize. This is amazing. You're progression with the Model Zero already is quite impressive. I'm interested to see what else you know." He looked at her keenly and she got the impression once more that he was telling a dog to sit, and she was the dog.

"Well I don't…"

"There's Nick and Jason! Do them! Do them!" Tommy suddenly cried enthusiastically and they turned to see the elevator doors opened once more. The twins she had seen in the cafeteria were there and so were Aaron and the boy from the morning, the latter less soot covered than the last time she saw him. For a moment she forgot all about alien robots and was struck by the difference between the twins as they crossed the room. The one on the right was grinning and practically skipping in excited steps while his brother had his arms crossed, his expression surly and bored.

"Do us? You better be talking about something G rated, pipsqueak," the less friendly-looking of the two drawled. "Who are you?" he threw at Eliza, not quite frowning at her.

"This here's Eliza," Aaron stepped forward to introduce her, "the new pilot for the Model Zero." The bored twin suddenly looked less bored and he smirked at her.

"Oh, so the ice queen has finally been dethroned then?" he chuckled. "Well she won't be happy about that, will she?"

"Play nice, brother dear," the other twin matched the smirk and jabbed his brother lightly in the ribs with an elbow, making him frown.

"Eliza," Aaron drew her attention. "This is Nick and Jason."

"Which is which?" they asked in unison, grinning. Aaron looked between them for a moment.

"Nick," he pointed to the one on the right, "and Jason," the one on the left.

"Bzzzt. Wrong," they said together again, sharing a triumphant smirk. The violinist sighed and rolled his eyes.

"And this is Louis," he directed Eliza's attention to the other boy. Louis smiled and nodded at her and she almost couldn't help but flash a small smile back.

"So wait, what was this about doing us?" the bored twin asked again.

"She knows their names!" Tommy replied excitedly. There was silence while the newcomers turned to look at her quizzically. The twins frowned and both stepped forward and began to circle her slowly.

"Really? And how do you know that?" one asked. She had lost track of which was which.

"I-I don't know."

"Don't know or don't want to tell us?" the other—or maybe it was the same one—asked. She clenched her fists and drew her shoulders up, body beginning to shake subtly.

"Come on guys," Aaron frowned at them. "Leave her alone." They stopped circling but stayed uncomfortably close.

"So what're they're names?" they asked together.

"Wh-who?"

Eliza yelped in surprise as each twin suddenly grabbed an arm and spun her around. "Them," they said simply. She stared out over the expansive room, blinking rapidly as her vision spun unsteadily. When it cleared she knew almost instinctively that they were talking about the pair from her dream, the red and the yellow next in line against the wall. "S-Sideswipe," she said quietly, "…and Sunstreaker."

The twins tensed. She could feel it in the way her arms were pulled up a little higher. Hesitantly she glanced up. The one on her left merely looked astonished while the one to her right looked vaguely angry. Before they could say anything, however, Aaron and Jacobs pulled them away.

"That's enough you two," Jacobs reprimanded. The twin he held roughly shrugged him off as he continued to nearly glare at Eliza. She shrank back a step and almost ran into Louis.

"Do you know all their names?" he asked. She glanced back at the robots and nodded slowly.

"I think so."

He smiled and pointed to the last two in the line up. "That one's mine and the one next to it is Jacobs'."

She turned to look and wasn't surprised when she saw more familiar faces from her dream. This time it was the shorter robot with the flashing appendages on the side of his head, though they were dark now, and the medic. The names came easier now and it felt as if the presence was waking up, growing stronger.

"Wheeljack," she said easily. "And the other one's Ratchet." Louis adjusted his glasses.

"You're getting all that from the Model Zero? He's telling you that?" She glanced at the red and blue giant and nodded slowly. "Well that's certainly never happened before." He turned to look at Jacobs. "Do you think it has anything to do with the power source?"

"It's a theory," Jacobs replied thoughtfully. "You don't suppose—"

"We'll I'm feeling rather left out here," Aaron suddenly cut across what was sure to become a complicated, scientific debate. "Let's see if you know my buddy's name," he challenged with a grin, pointing out one of the robots closer to the Model Zero.

He was white and black with a number four painted on his chest, another character from her dream. She smiled when his name came to her, thinking it fit Aaron well. "Jazz."

"Alright. I feel better now," Aaron grinned. "And what about the Model Zero? He must have a name too, since we're introducing everyone."

Eliza blinked and turned to look up at the towering red and blue. Nothing came into her mind. She frowned and tried to clear her thoughts, but still nothing came. She bit her lip, feeling the others' stares boring into her.

'What's your name?' she thought, trying to question him directly. Silence answered her. The presence seemed just as confused as she was and had retreated to the outskirts of her mind once more.

"Eliza?" Jacobs asked gently.

"What's the matter? Doesn't he want to tell you?" the gruffer twin scoffed.

"I…don't think he knows."


	3. Anger

I should not set goals for myself. No sooner do I say I'll update every week than it takes me two weeks to update. I'll try my best not to let it go more than two though (and now that I've said that it will). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this! If nothing else, I'm having fun.

* * *

"Number 317," a voice barked in the darkness. She froze, blood pounding in hear ears and throbbing in her throat, strong enough to bring a metallic taste to her mouth. "Number 317!" the voice repeated impatiently.

A sea of faces turned on her, knowing it was her even without seeing the brand on her arm. "There she is! There she is!" they chanted as blackness swallowed everything again. She waited in the dark for the end, for the pain, for needles or burning or worse. Light blinded her in a burning flash and suddenly she was in the Model Zero again, snug in his seat with that feeling of immense power just behind her head. The energy behind her was pulsing and growing, reaching out to her, engulfing her. At first it was warm, comforting even, but then it began to burn and soon every nerve in her body was on fire. She cried out and tried to escape but tight belts sprang from the seat, constricting her like snakes. The air was crushed from her lungs. A spike of pain was driving itself into the back of her skull.

Suddenly she was awake, eyes darting wildly around the alien room for a moment before she recognized it as the academy dormitory. Izzy, the only other occupant of the room, slept on peacefully while Eliza panted for air and shivered from the light sheen of sweat coating her body. She sighed and stared down at the sheets, knowing she wasn't going to sleep anymore tonight. She was a terrible insomniac at the best of times and it was obvious recent circumstances weren't helping.

Her eyes wandered to the bedside table where a single small rectangle was lying innocently, reflecting the small amount of moonlight filtering in through the window. She reached out and picked it up, the plastic cool in her fingers. It was her security card giving her access to the elevator leading down to the Fighters. The Model Zero's presence was barely a whisper at the back of her mind now, so faint she might have been imagining it. Now might be her chance to talk to him alone.

Immediately she realized how ridiculous that sounded. It wasn't like he was going to answer her, not if their communications so far were any indication. Besides that she would definitely get hopelessly lost looking for the elevator. No, she decided, it was better just to try and go back to sleep.

So, with this decision firmly in mind, it was a surprise even to her when ten minutes later found her wandering the hallways searching for the elevator. Luckily, it was only about 20 feet from the dormitory entrance and she caught sight of it on her second time around, having missed it in the dark the first time.

Nervously she swiped the card, half expecting it to be rejected, and jumped when the doors slid smoothly opened. As she had that afternoon she hesitated to enter the small room that would take her to another world, another plane of existence; one she didn't particularly want to be a part of. For a long moment she stared at the panel of buttons before she remembered she wanted B1. Her finger hovered over the button for an indeterminable amount of time before she finally pushed it.

The elevator jerked downward. She listened uneasily to the creaks and groans of the cables as the metal box moved down toward its destination. She almost hoped it wouldn't reach it, that it would just keep going forever. However, eventually the light overhead for level B1 flashed to life and there was a chime as the room stopped and the doors slid opened.

The Model Zero stood just where she had left him, stoic and intimidating as ever. The presence was still faint, which was odd. Up until now it had always grown stronger as she got physically closer to the robot. Eliza frowned and slowly walked across the room.

Although the elevator labeled the room as a basement level, it wasn't below ground. When viewed from the outside it looked more like a garage or, as the name suggested, an airplane hanger. Moonlight streamed in from the glass ceiling over the Fighters' heads, bathing the Model Zero in a silvery glow.

She stopped a few yards back, craning her neck back to stare up at him. The presence still hadn't grown much stronger and now it felt almost like it was purposefully avoiding her, which worried her even more. She couldn't say why, especially since she wanted nothing more than to be released from this mess, but it did bother her. There was a long awkward silence.

"Hello?" she asked, feeling stupid. Her small voice echoed faintly in the empty room. The Model Zero didn't respond. "Hello? It's me…um…you're pilot," she tried again. This time there was a faint burst of emotion, but it faded too fast for Eliza to truly comprehend it.

"Um…did you remember your name yet?" No answer. She sighed. "You really need a name," she said, to her surprise quickly feeling more and more at ease talking to the looming mass of metal like a sentient being. "It looks like we're going to be stuck together for a while and I can't just keep calling you 'Model Zero' all the time." Eliza's hand strayed to her arm, as though she could feel the brand there through the fabric of her nightshirt. When she realized what she was doing she quickly dropped her hand to her side again. "Everyone needs a name…no one should be known as just a number, and especially not zero."

Silence fell on the room and she fidgeted, trying to think of something else to say. Why had she even come down here? Was she really hoping to gain something from this?

She sighed, feeling foolish and embarrassed, and turned to leave. "I guess I'll see you the next time they decide to make me control you." All at once the presence flared up in the back of her mind and she collapsed to her knees with a cry, pain spiking in the back of her head. There weren't any words or images but just his feelings, and he was_angry_!

Squinting against the pain she turned to look up at him over her shoulder. Physically the robot hadn't moved. His optics were still dark and vacant. But she could feel his power flaring out now, the power that had surrounded her and pulsed behind her head in the cockpit. It was almost a visible aura around him, or maybe that was just the moonlight. It was impossible to tell.

Holding her head she stumbled to her feet and stared up at the blank optics. The intense anger didn't let up, but she got the impression that it wasn't necessarily meant for her so much as directed at her because she was the only one there. He didn't seem fully awake yet, or at the very least he was incredibly confused. Which was understandable, or it would have been if he would stop trying to crack her head opened from the inside out.

Even though the Fighter hadn't shown any signs of moving Eliza knew instinctively that it was a stupid and potentially dangerous idea to stay. Still clutching her head she retreated back to the elevator and hurriedly punched the button to take her back up. As the physical distance between them increased the pain began to lessen to a dull ache, but it didn't fade entirely. She rose steadily away and suddenly realized she was gripping the elevator's railing with white knuckles, her cheeks wet, breathing ragged. That wasn't just anger she had felt, it had been downright hatred and she never wanted it directed at her again.

* * *

The headache refused to leave. It was a constant pressure on her head, distracting her as she attempted to settle into her new life at the academy. It was impossible to pay attention in class or anywhere else and for two days she drifted through her new life like a sleepwalker. She didn't go back to the hanger. She was tempted every time she passed the elevator, but always forced herself to keep walking.

It was on one such occasion, when she was lingering by the elevator uncertainly, that she suddenly turned to go and ran into someone coming the other direction. The other caught their balance but Eliza fell painfully to the floor. She stared for a moment at immaculately shined shoes before looking up into the scowling face of Amelia Platt.

"Don't you have class?" the girl demanded. Eliza thought about it, realized she had no idea what time it was, and shrugged. Amelia gave a frustrated sigh. "Jacobs wants to see you. He's in the infirmary," she said briskly before turning away. "Don't let me catch you skipping class again."

"Amelia." Eliza blinked, surprised that she was the one who had spoken.

"What?" The other girl turned back to level Eliza with an impatient stare. Eliza got to her feet before continuing awkwardly.

"Aaron said you wanted the Model Zero." Amelia's gaze became a dark scowl.

"What of it?" The question was nearly a growl. Eliza fidgeted, her gaze straying to the wall as she pulled at her uniform absently.

"I just wondered…what do you know about him?"

Amelia regarded her silently, glare still in place, and then turned sharply on her heel. "You're his pilot. You know more than I do," her voice echoed down the hall as she turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Eliza stared after her, feeling abandoned. It was a familiar feeling. She sighed and turned to look at the elevator doors again before reluctantly heading for the infirmary.

It took her thirty minutes and two wrong turns before she finally reached her destination. When she stepped in she could see Jacobs through the door to his private office and knocked gently on the frame. "Sorry I'm late. I got lost," she apologized.

He looked up from his desk where he was busy typing at the computer and appeared to physically stop himself from retorting before looking back at the screen. "Have a seat. I'm almost done."

Eliza stepped into the small, cluttered room and sat in the seat at the side of his desk. She looked over his shoulder at the complicated numbers and symbols scrolling across the computer screen.

"What's that?" she couldn't help but ask.

"I'm analyzing a substance," he replied a bit curtly. His mood obviously wasn't as good as it had been the first day and she wondered if he had merely been extra cheerful for her and the other pilot candidates. Maybe this was the real Jacobs.

"What is it?"

He nodded at a vial of cloudy purple liquid on his desk. Before she could ask what it was he turned to her with a question of his own. "What do you know about the terrorist groups?"

She frowned, not understanding the correlation between terrorists and the strange liquid on Jacobs' desk. "They use Fighters like we do," she said, trying to recall everything she had heard about them. "They're different from ours though. They're…hard to control or something. They were going to be deactivated after the war, but some corrupt officials sold them on the black market instead. Terrorists use them against the Regime now."

Jacobs nodded. "So they do tell you kids something in the orphanages. I wouldn't have thought they'd bother." He gave her a look and for a moment she suspected that he knew, but it passed and he was talking about the purple liquid again. "Those Fighters have different central programming," he was saying. "They resist compatibility so it's very difficult to find pilots. That's why this was created," he held up the vial. "This drug excites certain normally inactive portions of the brain, giving the user temporary extreme sensitivity. In short, it forces compatibility, allowing anyone under its influence to be a pilot. It also has a side effect that virtually shuts down the frontal lobes, the logic centers of the brain, inhibiting the user's ability to make decisions and making them very easy to direct and influence, even control."

Eliza stared at the seemingly innocent vial with new respect and a hint of contempt. She found herself wondering if she or one of her fellow orphans had been the unfortunate guinea pigs used to discover the drug's effects, but quickly pushed the thought aside. She wasn't a part of that world anymore.

"Why are you analyzing it?"

Jacobs gave a frustrated sigh and tossed the vial back on his messy desk almost carelessly. "Because the Regime's sole goal in life is to fill my existence with as many meaningless tasks as humanly possible," he grumbled. "They want me to create a counter substance to nullify the effects and then they plan to spray the terrorist Fighters with it, rendering them unable to accept their pilots anymore. Sounds like a good idea, right? And it would be, except for the fact that they constantly change the composition of the drug to keep the pilots from building up tolerance. So you see, by the time I create a counter substance it won't work because the drug will have changed. But do they listen when I tell them that?!" He glared at her, as though he expected her to argue. Eliza just stared back in astonishment, not sure if the rant itself or the information in it was more interesting.

"What did you want to see me for?" she asked by way of changing the subject. Jacobs sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, obviously trying to calm down.

"Oh yes, that. I need to give you a physical." Eliza's face burst into a heated blush.

"W-what?!"

"A physical examination," he repeated, giving her a mildly annoyed look. "I doubt you've had any decent ones in the past, unless they were looking for rashes or other side-effects of whatever you had been subjected to. Come on." He pushed himself up from his chair and left the office to go into the main room. Eliza watched him go, staring dumbly at the empty doorway after he had gone.

"Come on!" came the impatient cry from the infirmary and finally she stood up slowly and followed.

* * *

Eliza trudged down the hall feeling embarrassed and a little violated. The setting sun dyed the floor tiles golden-orange and cast long shadows down the hallway. Her eyes followed the black lines of the window pain and caught on the elevator doors once more. She stopped and stared at her distorted reflection in the steel doors. The headache still throbbed in the back of her head. Amelia's words echoed down the empty hallway.

"_You're his pilot. You know more than I do."_

She sighed. "Alright, this has gone on long enough," she declared to no one. Fishing the security card out of her bag she swiped it through the reader and stepped through the moment the doors slid opened. She punched the button for the hanger purposefully and waited impatiently for the elevator to sink to the appropriate level. Her headache grew with intensity the closer she got, only fueling her determination.

The doors slid opened and she stalked forward into the room towards the Model Zero. The light of the dying sun provided a fierce aura of phantom flames around him but she refused to be intimidated. She stopped before him, dropping her bag at her feet, and crossed her arms.

"Are you not talking to me because you can't, or because you don't want to?" she demanded. The presence in the back of her mind shimmered but ultimately remained quiet. Eliza frowned. "Jacobs was right, you are stubborn." Still there was no response. Her gaze narrowed as she felt the stress of the last few days finally cause something to boil over.

"TALK TO ME!" Her voice echoed through the hanger much louder than she had intended. The Model Zero remained maddeningly silent. She glared and fear further fueled her anger as she thought again of the purple liquid.

"Do you know what will happen if you don't cooperate?" she warned, voice shaking as her hands clenched into tight fists. "They'll drug me and force me to force you to do what they want!"

"Then your race is truly as cruel and compassionless as I suspected."

Eliza reeled at the sudden voice and stumbled back, tripping over her bag and landing hard on her bottom. The words were spoken dispassionately, but a sense of cold anger still lurked behind them. When no echo accompanied them she realized they hadn't really been spoken aloud, but directly into her mind. That thought was a bit unnerving. She licked her dry lips, trying to find her voice again as she stared up at the giant metallic monster looming over her.

"You…think we're cruel?"

"What else would you call the practice of imprisoning beings in their own bodies, reducing them to tools and stripping them of their freewill?" Again the words bordered, but didn't quite breech, the edge of fury. Eliza slowly processed the comment, eyes widening in realization.

"You can think and talk, but you're paralyzed… It must be horrible for you. I hadn't thought about it before." A growl, an audible burst of anger, flared painfully in the back of her mind. She flinched and looked up at him. The dark optics and the motionless frame were no longer stoic but smothering, a prison of glass and metal. She shivered at the thought.

Slowly she got to her feet, as though afraid any sudden movements might startle him. She opened her mouth a few times but didn't know quite what to say. The situation had changed so suddenly. When she had come down here, determined to force him to talk, it had been in frustration and fear for her own safety. Now, however, that suddenly seemed petty and selfish, wholly insignificant in light of the injustices he was suffering. With the same careful movements she bent and retrieved her bag and awkwardly turned to go.

Her steps were slow and hesitant and numerous times she almost turned to look back as she made her way to the elevator. The metal doors slide opened and she paused, finally glancing back.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

As the elevator began to rise she was relieved to note that the headache had gone.

* * *

Eliza stared tiredly at her bowl of soggy cereal, having spent a sleepless night suffering through torturous dreams of being paralyzed or immobilized in various ways. She pushed her spoon around absently, chasing spinning flakes across the small white lake. The spoon dropped with a clang and a splash as someone sat next to her. Eliza blinked, wiping milk off her face, and turned to see Tommy grinning at her.

"Good morning! Sorry about that," he greeted.

"Hi," she returned less enthusiastically, mopping up the spilt milk with a napkin.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Tommy asked with a frown. Eliza surprised a sigh at his intrusiveness.

"Couldn't sleep," she replied. To her surprise he accepted the answer and didn't press the subject.

"You were in the hanger last night," he said quietly. Her hand stilled and she turned to look at him fully. His eyes were on his plate of scrambled eggs as he spoke. "I saw you come out of the elevator. Did he talk to you?"

"Yes."

"Did he finally tell you his name?"

"No."

"He was angry, huh?" Now the boy turned to look at her, his eyes somber and serious. She nodded slowly and he sighed. "Bee was like that too. They all were for a while when they fist woke up, and I understand why. I can't even imagine being trapped in your own body like that." His gaze slipped down to the flecks of milk still sprayed across the table and ultimately back to his own plate. "What you have to do, is think of him like a dog."

Eliza blinked and ran his last sentence over in her mind again, convinced she had heard wrong. "Like…a dog?" Tommy nodded as he took a bite of his food.

"That's right. You just have to think about him like a big friendly dog. Once upon a time he was really nice, but then he got a mean owner who did horrible things to him. The owner tied him up and left him outside in the rain, kicked him, called him names and all kinds of things like that." He paused to take a swig of orange juice before continuing. "So over time he came to hate not only his owner but all humans and now he snaps and barks at anyone who comes near. You know what happens to a dog like that?"

Eliza shook her head, silently hoping that the Model Zero never heard about this analogy. She was sure he would find it less than flattering.

"It keeps on being mean until someone decides to break the cycle," Tommy said, smiling knowingly between bites of egg. "All you have to do is be nice to him and show him some respect and pretty soon he'll be back to being happy and friendly the way he was to begin with." He finished his orange juice and gave her a bright smile. "Well, I'll see you later in the hanger," he said as he began to get up.

"In the hanger?" she frowned.

"Yeah," he nodded. "It's Friday. We pilots have training after classes. See you there." Eliza watched him deposit his tray by the kitchen and leave the cafeteria. She turned back to her cereal and watched a small brown flake sink and ultimately disappear from sight.

"Like a dog, huh?"


	4. Friend

Wow two months. When I said I knew it would take more than two weeks I didn't think this much more. I blame it partially on school, partially on having to get used to Vista on my new laptop, but mostly on my laziness and the fact that it took me until the last weekend of Christmas Break before I felt like doing anything. I apologize profusely. I swear I'll be better about this. As a peace offering I tried to make this chapter well worth the wait. Please let me know if I succeeded. I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and a great New Year. Happy 2008!

* * *

Eliza stopped outside the elevator doors, the weight of her bag heavy on her shoulder. She grasped the strap tightly and stood there, worrying her bottom lip. Class had ended nearly fifteen minutes ago. She could simply not go, but that would almost definitely mean incurring Amelia's wrath, something Eliza was in no hurry to do. She pulled her security card out of her pocket, fingering the cool plastic. 

"What a mess," she sighed as she swiped the plastic through the reader and stepped onto the elevator. It lurched downward and she tightened her hold on the strap of her bag, her hands cold and wet with perspiration. She watched the floor lights above her impatiently and stiffened when the tiny lift stopped; the door's opening with a ding and a rusty squeak.

She stopped in sheer surprise two steps out of the elevator. Tommy and Izzy had already arrived and she stared in awe as they operated their fighters. Both Bumblebee and Ironhide were moving across the room with slow, sure clanging steps. No longer were their optics dark and empty but blazing with blue life that made them look strange, made them look alive. The sunlight glinted off the massive robots as they headed for the open door at the end of the hanger, leading no doubt to some sort of outdoor training course.

She heard the doors open again behind her and suddenly had one twin at either elbow.

"Well look who's late, brother?" the one on her left said disapprovingly.

"Tut, tut," his brother clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Not a very good way to start your first day."

"No. Not a good way to start at all—"

"First impressions and all—"

"Yes, yes. First impressions are very important."

"You two are late, _again_?!" came an authoritative shout from across the room. All three of them looked up to see Amelia making her way towards them swiftly.

"Uh-oh," the twin on her right smirked.

"Something wicked this way comes," the left one replied, matching his brother's smirk.

Amelia stopped before them, a clipboard clutched in one hand. Her uniform had been traded for a tight fitting suit of some kind. She gave the twins an exasperated glare.

"You two are both scheduled for maintenance today," she said curtly. Her face split into an almost wicked smile. "I'd hurry if I were you. Don't want to keep Dr. Jacobs waiting." Both twins swore under their breaths and hurried off, leaving Eliza exactly where she didn't want to be: alone with Amelia.

The other girl regarded her with her icy stare for a moment. Eliza looked away uncomfortably and found her eyes drawn to the Model Zero, one of the few fighters left against the wall. She realized for the first time that she hadn't felt much from him since entering the room, though if she concentrated she could sense the same anger and disgust he had confronted her with the day before. Amelia cleared her throat to gain Eliza's attention.

"Today will just be a standard test run for you," Amelia began to explain briskly. "We need to map out your operating information. I'll guide you in the Model One—" Eliza stopped listening, her gaze slipping to the Model Zero again. The anger remained dull but the disgust was rising and there was a hint of something else. A sense of helplessness and she felt suddenly that he was on the verge of pleading with her not to get in the cockpit again, to leave him with what little dignity he had left.

_What you have to do, is think of him like a dog._

"No," she said suddenly, interrupting whatever operating procedure the other girl was going over. Amelia stopped and looked at her, her blue gaze growing even colder.

"What?" Her voice was soft and low. A shiver ran up Eliza's spine at the sound of it.

"No," she repeated. "He doesn't want me to, so I won't." It was almost comical how well the flood of surprise she received from the Model Zero matched the look on Amelia's face.

"But…you can't just—" Amelia seemed to be having trouble understanding that Eliza had just flat out refused to cooperate with her. Eliza had to fight the smile that pulled at her lips. The twins' behavior was beginning to make more sense to her.

"I just did," she said curtly. She turned on her heal and headed back to the elevator. "You can punish me if you want, but I won't force anyone to do anything they don't want to do." She punched the button and the elevator doors opened. She stopped before stepping through, unable to resist a parting shot, and turned back to smile sweetly at Amelia, who stood staring after her with an expression stuck between bewildered and thunderous. "Oh, and by the way, his name isn't Model One. It's Prowl."

She burst into laughter the moment the doors close and she began to move upward. "You have no idea how good that felt…" she said to no one. The barest hint of amusement mixed with the astonishment she was still receiving from the presence in the back of her mind.

* * *

Eliza sighed and dropped her head onto her desk. She hated algebra. They had never taught her this at the orphanage, but then what was the point of teaching guinea pigs algebra? What was that x doing in there and what was she supposed to do with it? She looked at the next problem. Find x, the instructions read. She gave a frustrated sigh and circled the letter in the equation. 

"There it is," she grumbled. She heard the door open behind her and raised her head eagerly, already rehearsing the best way to beg for help in her head. "Hey Izz—" The greeting, and subsequent begging, died on her lips. The girl who stood in the doorway was not Izzy but Amelia Platt. Eliza sat up straighter.

"Come with me," Amelia said curtly. Eliza hesitated. It wasn't as if the other girl was going to beat her up, but it was clear she had some sort of punishment in store to reward Eliza's insubordination.

"Why?" Eliza asked carefully. Amelia's lips thinned into a tight frown.

"You didn't think you'd get away with skipping your training session without any repercussions did you?" Her frown became a cramped smile that Eliza didn't like at all. "You said yourself I could punish you if I wished," she added.

Eliza sighed and stood, following Amelia wordlessly out of the room. She noticed as they went how straight and tall Amelia held herself as she walked, every step dripping with authority and purpose that demanded respect. She led them to the elevator and Eliza quirked an eyebrow at her before stepping in. The sun was setting, as it had been when she was there the previous day, and it left an odd orange glow over the fighters they saw standing proud and motionless at the back of the hanger as the doors opened.

Amelia strode across the hanger quickly without a word. Eliza hesitated for a moment when she saw the other girl was heading for the Model Zero. Was she going to try and force Eliza to operate him again?

As they drew closer the presence awoke in the back of her mind with the same groggy quality it had possessed on the first day. Was he sleeping? she wondered, a small amused smile playing on her lips at the thought of a forty foot robot taking a nap.

Amelia stopped beside one massive blue foot. Eliza saw that the cherry picker from the first day stood behind her and so did…two buckets?

"You are to wash him," she said, the barest of smirks playing on her lips. Eliza looked at the two tiny buckets and then at the massive robot beside her.

"Excuse me?"

"Wash him," she repeated. "There's a faucet and cleaning supplies over there," she pointed to a far end of the hanger where a hose rested beside two cabinets.

"Wash him," Eliza said again, looking up again at the Model Zero. "But that'll take all night."

"Then you better get started," Amelia said, the smirk finally breaking free and spreading across her face as she turned to head back to the elevator. Eliza watched her go and walked over to the buckets, picking up a rag numbly. "You have to be kidding me…"

"Oh!" Amelia called from the elevators, "And by the way! His name isn't Model Zero." Eliza paused, waiting for her to continue.

"So what is it then?" she shouted back when Amelia didn't continue.

"Why should I tell you?" was the reply. The elevator doors opened and Amelia stepped in but threw out an arm to stop them from closing. "And I almost forgot!" she added. "There's wax in those cabinets over there. Put a coat or two on when you're done." The elevator doors shut and she was gone.

Eliza looked down at the rag in her hands and then up at the Model Zero again, towering over her in the soft glow of twilight filtering in through the windows. "Damn it!" she cursed, hurling the rag to the floor before sighing resignedly and going to find the light switch.

* * *

"Stop laughing," she grumbled as she scrubbed at a massive foot. "This is _not_ funny in any way, shape, or form." Despite her protests she could still hear his laughter bubbling in the back of her mind. Under any other circumstances it would have been welcomed, especially after the cold fury and indifference she had received from him so far. Now, however… 

"Stop. Laughing!" she growled, throwing the rag into the soapy bucket with a splash. She snatched up the long hose beside her to rinse off the suds. The snickers in the back of her mind rose.

"Did it ever occur to you," he replied between chuckles, "that perhaps that tickles?" She shut off the hose abruptly and took a step back, craning her neck to look up at the dark optics.

"Tickles?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"You're…made of metal. You can't tickle metal," she said slowly. There was a pause and she felt the same sort of indignant flare she'd gotten the night before when he had accused humans of being cruel creatures.

"I am made of metal, yes, but I can guarantee it is a type you have never encountered before. I can feel and certain feelings can tickle," he explained. Her eyes drifted slowly back to the huge expanse of blue metal before her. She reached out a hand to touch it and drew it back quickly. The water in the hose was cold…but the metal was warm. She looked up at him again, thought about explaining how she hadn't known that, couldn't have known that, and decided against it. Instead she put down the hose and picked up the rag again, using slower strokes to try and keep from tickling him again. Her mind remained quiet so she must have achieved her goal. She finished soaping the area and reached for the hose again but hesitated before turning it on.

"I'm sorry the water's so cold," she said quietly. "I can't do anything about that." There was a moment of surprised silence, not unlike what she had felt from him that afternoon.

"That is alright."

She changed the setting on the nozzle to a gentler spray before turning the water on. She rinsed his foot and dragged the buckets to the other one, repeating her work. Her mind was quiet for a long time and she suspected he was thinking about something, but was afraid to ask what.

"You…are a sparkling, are you not?" The sudden question startled her and she whipped around before she realized it had come from inside her own head.

"I'm sorry, what?" she frowned. He made a sound that was almost a sigh.

"You are a sparkling," he said again. She thought about the word for a long time, wondering if sleep deprivation was making her misunderstand him.

"Sparkling?" she repeated uncertainly. "I don't know what that is." He made a sound that was almost a sigh. At first she thought he was annoyed, but a moment later she could feel that he genuinely wanted her to understand.

"A youngling," he tried, sighing again when she remained stumped. "You…are not yet mature," he tried again. That clicked.

"Oh. You mean I'm not an adult yet. You're trying to say I'm a kid?" she asked to clarify. He considered her words and agreed.

"Yes. That would be an accurate description."

She nodded and went back to gently soaping his foot. "That's right. Legally you aren't an adult until you're 18, so I'm still a child." There was a pause.

"I did not know." He sounded regretful. "Why would your race use spar—uh…"

"Children," she provided. "The plural is children."

"Thank you. Why would your race use children for this?" He didn't need to explain what "this" was. She shrugged.

"It has something to do with this compatibility thing everyone keeps talking about. I don't really understand it either." She scrubbed at a spot near his heel. "This is nothing compared to the orphanage though, that's for sure."

"Orphanage?" he asked, intrigued.

"Yeah. It's were kids who don't have parents go. Um…do giant robots have parents? You know, wha—whoever made you."

"Mechs," he corrected. She blinked.

"What?"

"We are Mechs. Not robots." Her lips twitched in a grin. It seemed strange to be politically correct with someone of a different species.

"Sorry. Mechs," she repeated dutifully. "Do mechs have parents?"

"We have creators. But if a parent is like a creator then I do not understand how you can exist without one." She blushed.

"Well they're around for that part…you know what? Never mind. I don't think you'd understand what I meant anyway." He was quiet while she put down the rag and got the hose once more.

"I want to apologize," he said finally. She frowned and turned off the hose.

"For what?" she asked, looking up at his face again, most of it hidden in shadow from this angle.

"I did not realize you were a spar—a child. Upon…awakening here, I blamed you for my situation. That was unfair. I am sorry." She smiled and reached out to touch the warm metal again.

"That's okay. You were scared and confused. I was too. People do stupid things when they're scared and confused. Most of all they like to have someone to blame. I was the most convenient target." She turned on the hose again, rinsing him off slowly.

"I also wanted to thank you, for before," he added. Her smile widened.

"I know what it's like to be constantly forced to do things you…don't want to do," she said quietly with a heavy sigh. "I couldn't do the same thing to someone else. I doubt this is the last of my trouble over this afternoon though."

"Why is that?" She couldn't explain why but she felt warmth course through her at his concerned tone.

"They brought me here for a reason, at least that's what Jacobs said." She shut off the water and stepped back to look up at him once more. "You have some kind of…power source or something that they want to get to. Do you have any idea what they're talking about?"

He was quiet for a long moment and she felt the same confusion and frustration she had received when she asked him what his name was. She frowned and opened her mouth to ask what was wrong.

"He told you about that? Well he certainly should not have done that," a new voice rang out over the hanger. Eliza jumped and whirled around. She was no longer alone. Five men stood in the center of the hanger. Two stood flanked by the others, one fat and one skinny. The remaining three were much bigger, towering head and shoulders above the other two. The fat man wore a military uniform decorated with metals. The rest were in suits. She took a step back, pressing herself against the blue foot.

"We'll have to do something about that," the skinny one, the one who had spoken before, said to the fat one. "We can't have the good doctor blabbing classified information all over the place."

Eliza bit her lip and stiffened. They're talking about hurting Jacobs, she thought desperately.

"If I were you I would be a bit more worried about myself at the moment," the Model Zero replied.

The skinny man, obviously the more diplomatic of the two, turned towards her with a smile that revealed dirty, coffee stained teeth. "General Platt tells me you refused to pilot your machine today."

"General Platt? Amelia's dad?" she blurted before she could stop herself. The fat man gave a huff that quivered his blonde mustache while the skinny man continued unfazed. "He also informs me that the terrorists are planning a major attack on power stations throughout the northern hemisphere as early as three days from now. So, you can see the need for urgency in securing a reliable power source, such as the one you were just talking to yourself about, in the face of our impending crisis."

Eliza took another step back, sliding along the foot. She chanced a glance at the cherry picker, then up to his chest where the cockpit was. She'd never make it. "What do you want from me?" she asked timidly.

"We," the skinny man said, smiling wider and displaying a few browned crowns, "want you to be a good little girl and do as you are told, starting with getting in the robot so we can gather as much information as we can about the power this thing holds when it's on."

Mech, she thought sourly despite her fear, and he's not a "thing" or an "it" and he is on, dipshit.

"You learn fast," the Model Zero put in, a hint of amusement in his voice, "though I do not understand what a 'dipshit' is." She choked and blushed. I'll explain it to you later, she thought back.

"So what about it little girl?" the skinny man asked. Eliza pressed herself tightly against the foot and shook her head quickly. His smiled slipped. "Fine. If that is your choice, so be it." He looked to the huge men on either side of him and nodded.

Shit.

She ran for the cherry picker, clambering onto it and pressing the red button frantically. The accordion fold of metal struts slowly unfurled upwards. Too slow! Too slow! Time stalled as she watched the huge men sprinting towards her. They were on her in seconds, huge burley arms everywhere. One thick bicep wrapped around her neck, her wrists were trapped together in a fist the size of her head. She was pulled free of the pitiful machine and held tightly as she struggled. She tried to sink her teeth into the arm at her neck but it didn't help. The muscles were like rock.

Then she heard a plastic cap drop to the ground and looked up to the flash of a needle and the swirl of purple liquid. She froze. Her eyes widened and she struggled harder, choking not only on the man's arm but on the bile rising now in the back of her throat. Her entire body flailed in frantic spasms of terror.

"Number 317!" The words rang in her ears painfully. "Number 317! Number 317!" The Model Zero was saying something but she couldn't hear him. She thought it odd that she couldn't hear him, since his voice was internal rather than part of the external chaos.

Her arm was stretched out and she felt the needle go in and she screamed. Almost immediately the sound lessened and then ceased. She felt sluggish and dizzy. The men holding her abruptly let go and she collapsed to her knees. The room was hazy, unfocused. She could still hear the Model Zero's voice in her head but the words had lost all meaning.

Then someone was kneeling beside her. She didn't know how much time had passed. It could have been minutes just as easily as seconds. Words began to filter through the fog haphazardly, all the voices around her bleeding into one.

"What…done? How much…incompetent…watch…tone…Eliza?...careful…robot…power…now!"

Jumbled images and feelings, some that weren't hers, swirled through her mind; fear, concern, anger, disgust, and pain. So much pain. It hurt! Her head, her body, everything that she was, it all hurt! Slowly some part of her understood that the images swirling in her sight, blocking out the hanger and the men and Jacobs beside her with bed hair and a half smoked cigarette dangling from his lips, were memories. Not all the memories were hers either.

Now she was on a battle field like that of her dream from a few days passed, now a shivering six-year-old strapped to a cold table, now running through gunfire and raining shrapnel towards a broken body she had no hope of saving, now crying as tall, shadowy men examined the painful rashes that had sprung up on her arms. Two very different battlefields jumbled into one, but survival seemed just as crucial and just as hard to secure in both elements. There was pain and blood and shouts and now she didn't know where she was, who or when or what she was. There were other voices, too many voices, voices she should recognize and didn't, voices she shouldn't be able to hear though she couldn't say why.

"What're those no good slag suckers doin' ta her?"

"—told him to stop it with those things!"

"Who—?"

"Is that…?"

"Prahm! Yer comm.'s finally workin'!"

"Optimus Prime! We were getting worried!"

"Yeah. Don't scare us like that, man."

"Who…are you?"

Her head hurt. She slumped to the side. Someone was holding her up. Jacobs? It didn't matter. Her eyes closed, or maybe they didn't but it was suddenly black. "Knew…you had a name…" She didn't know if she'd said the words out loud or not. Then what was left of the world dissolved and she was falling.


	5. Death

Sorry again about the long wait. Real life tried to kill me again. It likes to do that a lot. I had planned to catch up over Spring Break, which was last week for me, but wouldn't you know it, I had a ton of homework that took up all the time I wasn't on vacation and…well, long story short that didn't work out. SO, I am making up for it with this incredibly plot heavy chapter—yay plot!—so that we can finally get things moving and get to the really fun bits. I hope you all enjoy it and I only have a month left of soul-crushing AP classes so hopefully you'll hear from me again in a timely manner for once.

Oh, and I do not own the song "Nothin's Gonna Stand in Our Way" by Spectre General.

* * *

"Can it really be true?" the man wondered out loud, only partially talking to himself as he paced restlessly. He twitched involuntarily, a nervous tick, a side effect of prolonged use of the drug.

"The General's information has always been accurate, but I too would like further confirmation. However…" the deep voice paused. "I have felt…a change of late. I hadn't considered it might be him…"

The man looked up at the gunmetal giant towering over him. He twitched violently and resumed his pacing. "They told her things…do you think that wise?" he chattered uncertainly. The low chuckle boomed through his temples.

"Relax, my dear doctor. It was all false information, of course. No harm in sowing a little paranoia. In fact, it may very well serve to keep them preoccupied. After all, it wouldn't do to be discovered just yet, before my plans have reached fruition." There was a considering pause. "Once the tip proves unfounded it may be advisable to provide them with a more tangible distraction. That idiot could use something to occupy himself with anyway."

* * *

Eliza groaned groggily. Everything hurt. She'd never felt pain like this before. She'd been burned, frozen, pinched, sliced and all manner of other uncomfortable and unpleasant things in the past, but this was more raw than anything she had ever experienced. It was as though her very nerves were being attacked. They tingled and stung all over her body.

With another soft moan she finally opened her eyes, grateful that the room was only lit by soft moonlight from the window. The white curtain around her bed seemed oddly familiar, but the world appeared to have lost most of its usual coherency and it was some time before she recognized enough of her surroundings to realize she was in the infirmary. Apparently she was becoming a regular here.

She nearly whimpered aloud as she sat up. The pain in her head magnified but slowly subsided back to a dull ache as she adjusted to the new upright position. She frowned as her clearing mind tried to make sense of the jumbled mess of her last memories, until she caught sight of the bruise where the needle had pierced her arm and everything clicked into place.

"Prime," she whispered, the name suddenly swimming to the forefront of her mind. "Optimus Prime." It seemed to fit him. Her frown deepened as she thought of the other voices she had heard. Were they the other fighters? It didn't seem that farfetched. Jacobs had said that the drug forced compatibility.

Suddenly she didn't want to be there anymore. She wanted to be with the Mod—no, with Optimus. Granted, she had been attacked on her last trip to the hanger, but she still felt much safer there with him.

Slowly she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself up, leaning heavily on the mattress as she struggled to keep her balance. Her vision fizzled out but soon filtered back and she straightened with a sigh.

Her steps were slow and unsteady and more than once she wondered why it was so important to go talk to him now, why she didn't lie down and go back to sleep; but somehow she made it to the elevator. The ride down was more disorienting than normal and she was forced to lean against the wall for several minutes afterward as her vision reset and her stomach settled back into its proper place.

When she finally felt steady enough to look up Optimus was watching her. His optics were still dark and he hadn't moved, but she _knew_ his attention was locked on her. Standing tall she made her way towards him but stumbled and collapsed to her knees halfway there.

"You should not be up," he chided, voice gently reprimanding.

"Optimus," she retorted, steadying herself with her hands and looking up at him. "Optimus Prime." There was silence. "That's your name, isn't it?"

"It…seems correct," he admitted but there was a quality of uncertainty to his reply that unnerved her.

"You mean you're not sure?" she asked softly. She'd expected him to recognize it more definitely than with that half-hearted maybe. "You really forgot your own name?" The presence in her mind swirled with something like embarrassment and she sighed. With some effort she pulled herself to her feet and managed to limp the rest of the way to him, sitting down on his foot when she finally made it.

"We have to do something about your amnesia problem," she muttered, leaning back against the warm metal of his ankle. Amusement tainted with slight annoyance and lingering concern filtered through her mind. Several quiet minutes passed and Eliza's breathing began to slow as her eyes grew heavier.

"Are you planning to recharge on my foot?" Eliza laughed and smiled. "I'd thought about it. It's more comfortable than you would think." Biting her lip, she tilted her head back to gaze up the length of his body. "Did you really not recognize them?" she whispered, remembering his reaction to the voices. It was obvious that he struggled with the answer and she had nearly drifted back to sleep when his voice came again.

"I…know very little beyond their names." It sounded like it pained him to say it and Eliza felt her chest constrict for no apparent reason. She couldn't think of anything to say to that. She could reassure him that she would help him regain his memories, but she wasn't sure she wanted to make that promise. First of all, how would she even go about that, considering they had no idea what was affecting his memories in the first place? Besides that, a promise like that would be making a commitment to stay with him until it was fulfilled. In her experience things never worked out that way.

"Are you fully functioning?" he broke the heavy silence and she smiled at the odd wording of the question.

"Not _fully_, I guess," she admitted. "It was just...important to come down here."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "No idea." The answer was hardly satisfying but he accepted it and she had almost fallen asleep again before another thought occurred to her. "You and I both know this isn't over," she whispered. "It's just starting, really, and they're not going to stop trying to make me pilot you," she mumbled tiredly. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "So I guess now's as good a time as any to ask for your permission."

She almost laughed at the pleasantly surprised tingle of warmth that flooded her mind. He hadn't been expecting that. "I don't think we're going to be able to get around it," she continued, "so it'll be easier on everyone if we just work together."

"You are probably right about that," he acknowledged. It went against his nature to permit someone else control over him and she knew it, but really what other choice did they have? "You…have given me no reason to distrust your intentions," he said hesitantly.

"Being in my head probably helps with that," she grinned and she could feel his smirk.

"Yes, it does," he nearly chuckled in reply.

"So is that a yes?" she murmured. She couldn't stave off sleep much longer, her aching body demanding rest whether she would willingly give it or not, but she wanted to hear his answer before she gave in.

"Yes," he replied, sounding much more at ease now and she smiled, curling onto her side on his warm foot with a yawn.

"Good. I won't betray your trust," she promised softly as her eyelids finally grew too heavy. There was a feeling of gentle acceptance of that statement before everything faded into comforting black velvet.

* * *

The newborn sun had barely warmed the windows the following morning when Jacobs found her. He had no qualms about loudly voicing his displeasure at her disappearance as he forcibly dragged her back to the infirmary, Eliza stumbling groggily behind him the whole way. He kept her in his care for three days to be sure there were no adverse effects from her involuntary overdose, during which time she made a habit of sneaking out to talk to Optimus. On the third night Jacobs was finally forced to confiscate her keycard and lock the infirmary doors to keep her in her bed, a turn of events that the giant red and blue mech found highly amusing despite his pilot's displeasure.

When she was finally released from Jacobs' tender care she had only gone three steps from the infirmary doors before Amelia accosted her, demanding to know when she could expect Eliza to cooperate with her piloting training. The other girl's jaw went slack with surprise when Eliza cheerfully informed her that she was free that afternoon. Somehow Eliza managed to control her laughter until she was safely around the corner.

The piloting process really wasn't as hard as she had suspected it would be and Amelia grudgingly admitted that Eliza was picking it up much faster than normal, though secretly Eliza suspected this was more do to Optimus' cooperation than her skill. The basics were straightforward enough. Work the pedals to walk, joysticks for hands. There were sensory gloves for more fine hand movements, such as those needed in combat, but that was for a later lesson. Walking and running came first.

Amelia was a surprisingly patient teacher, given her usually quick temper. She understood the importance of learning the correct movements and didn't push or taunt Eliza as the younger girl might have expected. Whatever tension existed between them was momentarily pushed aside as they focused on the task at hand.

"Now, one last thing tonight," Amelia announced as the sun began to set. Her voice echoed both through Optimus' comm. link and Prowl's external speakers. "I want you to activate your transformation sequence."

Eliza blinked. "What?" She looked around the cockpit curiously, feeling the intense power pulsating behind her head. "Transform…into what?" she wondered.

"That's what we're going to find out," Amelia replied. "Now, the first time's always a bit rocky. When they were modified their original transformation sequence was changed so the pilot wouldn't be crushed and it takes a few times for them to adjust. See the red lever to your right? Pull and twist."

Eliza turned her head, banging the bulky helmet against the seat awkwardly in the process. As Amelia had said there was a crimson lever resting above her elbow. Grasping it tightly she was surprised as it easily pulled out and twisted clockwise.

Instantly the screech of metal assaulted her ears. She yelped and cringed, curling in on herself as the cockpit shook and then suddenly pitched downward fast enough to make her scream. Metal groaned and shifted all around her and then, just as suddenly as it had started, everything stopped.

Cautiously she raised her head and looked around. The control panel had shifted to one side as a steering wheel bloomed in front of her. The pedals shifted closer together and were joined by a third for the clutch. She shakily steadied her arms on the steering wheel and peered out the truck's window at Prowl's shins.

"Yikes…" she breathed in astonishment. "Did that…hurt?" she added in concern. The voice had been quiet for the whole process, not crying out or making any sound of distress, and she hadn't felt any pain from him. Despite that, however, it certainly hadn't seemed very pleasant.

"Not…exactly," was his reply and she suddenly had a feeling not unlike cracking her back after laying stiff for far too long. Initially painful followed by intense relief. She jumped as the powerful engine gave a stutter and settled into a gentle purr like a contented cat, vibrating her seat.

"Guess you needed that huh?" she laughed. The engine's steady purr was his only response.

* * *

"You're much easier to clean like this," Eliza grinned as she hosed down the side of the truck. "And less ticklish," she added, noting that he hadn't been laughing the whole time.

"There are less external sensory nodes in this form," he supplied, mildly amused by her teasing. "They are not as necessary in my alt form." She nodded, that made sense. They lapsed into silence as she moved to wash his other side. Though it had started as a punishment she had grown to enjoy spending time with him like this.

A curse echoed through the hanger behind them and she turned in surprise to see Jason throw down the rag he had been using to polish Sunstreaker's shin guard and storm across the room to the elevator. Eliza looked between the closing lift doors and the abandoned golden warrior, suspecting that Optimus was doing the same though it was difficult to tell where the truck's attention was focused in this mode.

"What was that all about?" she wondered. If he had any insights, however, Optimus didn't have time to voice them as the elevator doors opened again and Tommy's voice rang out across the room in a shout as he hurried over.

"We got leave for the day and you should come with us to town, Liza!" he gushed. She blinked. "What?"

Izzy sighed and flicked her brother on the head as she, Louis, and Aaron joined them.

"Come on," Aaron invited with that disarming smile of his. "You need some driving lessons anyway." Eliza blanched and looked at the truck. "Wait…you mean I have to…drive him like this?" Aaron laughed and clapped her on the back. "Oh don't worry. It's easy, easier than driving them as robots, and you took to that pretty quick."

_Mechs_ she and Optimus thought together. She turned to look at the truck again, wondering for a moment why that sounded so impossible. Then it clicked. "Wait a minute," she frowned. "The Regime outlawed gasoline-run vehicles more than twenty years ago, before the war, and I _highly_ doubt he's electric." Louis snickered.

"Nah, he's not electric. More like radioactive," he provided. Eliza froze. "_What?!_"

"Don't worry," Aaron laughed. "You'll probably be killed in battle way before the radiation gets you."

"Thanks. That's very reassuring," Eliza deadpanned. He turned a mild glare on Louis. "Why didn't anyone think to tell me this before?"

"It's a hazard of the job," Louis shrugged. "The less you think about it the better really. See, they run off this stuff, it's basically a homebrew of melted ore and radioactive materials—'Jack calls it Energon—"

"Jazz calls it slag," Aaron put in with a wink. Optimus laughed and Eliza got the distinct feeling that she was missing the joke.

"_Anyway_," Louis huffed, "they run off that. Actually that and a bit of gasoline too; they're engines have been modified to process it in emergencies, though apparently it's not the most pleasant of experiences."

"But the laws…" Eliza protested.

"What fun is it being in the military if you don't get government clearance to bend a few rules now and then?" Aaron winked.

Eliza sighed and looked doubtfully at Optimus. How on Earth did they expect her to drive that thing?

* * *

"Sorry, sorry," Eliza winced as gears ground against each other with a screech as she let up on the clutch too soon. The truck swerved on the road as she tried to remedy the situation before settling back into the proper lane. Luckily the fighters and their pilots were the only ones on the road and everyone was giving Eliza and Optimus a wide berth.

"Don't grip so hard," Optimus advised and Eliza realized her knuckles were white. Quickly she let up her hold on the steering wheel. "Sorry."

"Alright back there?" Izzy's voice came over the comm., startling Eliza so badly that they swerved again.

"Uh…yeah, just fine," she assured her friend with a sigh.

"The Model Zero isn't cleared for recreational use," Amelia's voice broke over the line. Eliza jumped and glanced down at the comm. screen.

"Awww, come on, Mel," Aaron sighed and Eliza realized Amelia was actually lecturing_ him_, but doing so over the public line. "Where's your sense of fun?"

"This is not a laughing matter!" Amelia replied hotly. "She hasn't had combat training yet. What if you are attacked? Did you even think of that?"

Static burst over the line and then several voices cried out in surprise, Eliza's included, as music blasted over the line.

"_Nothin's gonna stand in our way! Nothin's gonna stand in our way!_"

"What is that?"

"Aaron! Turn that off, or down, or something!"

"Aaron!" Amelia barked. "You're blocking the comm.! We need to keep this line clear and open at all ti—AARON! Are you listening to me?!"

"_Nothin's gonna stand in our way! Not tonight!"_

Amelia's signal abruptly went dead. For a moment the line was dominated by the blasting music, which was obligingly softened now that it had served its purpose.

"Aaron," came Nick's thoroughly amused voice, "have I ever told you that you're my hero?"

Aaron remained their DJ until they approached city limits and Jacobs, their chaperone, threatened to burn the musician's violin if he didn't maintain radio silence. They pulled off the road into the parking lot of a small abandoned building on the outskirts of town. Eliza was a bit apprehensive about leaving Optimus there, but none of the others seemed bothered by the idea of leaving their fighters behind and so, with a feeble wave, she reluctantly followed the others into town.

She imagined this was what the rope in a game of tug of war felt like. As the morning progressed each of her companions insisted she come offer up on opinion on the awesomeness of whatever they had found. Izzy tried to interest her in clothes before her brother held her hostage in a toy store, Aaron just had to show her an electric violin he found and ramble off all its whatsits and dohickies, and Louis had to explain the various books he'd found on chemistry, physics, and quantum mechanics. Her head was spinning by the end of it.

The twins kept to themselves, occasionally trading insults with Jacobs, who trailed along behind the group leaving cigarette butt bread crumbs in his wake.

This went on until mid afternoon when they finally agreed they were hungry and began heading for a café. Eliza was chatting happily with Tommy, slowly beginning to feel more included and less of an awkward outsider in all of this, when she heard someone calling her name. Startled, she turned to look and Jason (or was it Nick?) nearly ran into her.

"Watch it," he growled. Definitely Jason.

"Eliza!" the voice came again. Eliza refocused her attention, the surly twin's ire forgotten.

"Demetri?" she whispered. Jason paused, "Who?"

The boy who ran up was a few years older than most of them, looking to be either in his late teens or early twenties. He smiled warmly as he stopped before Eliza, his beady black eyes looking down at her appraisingly.

"Well look at you. All grown up," he teased.

Eliza was still caught in a state of shock, but before she could respond Jason interrupted impatiently. "Who the hell are you?" Nick grabbed his brother's arm and dragged him away, grinning apologetically. "You'll have to excuse my brother. He got skipped by the niceness fairy." Jason growled in his grasp but his brother appeared unfazed.

Jacobs, who had been watching quietly, cleared his throat. "We'll save you something," he said to Eliza before herding the rest of his charges into the café. Nick practically had to drag his brother, who kept turning to glare over his shoulder.

"Who is this boy?" she heard Optimus' faint voice. Eliza smiled warmly. 'He's Demetri,' she thought back, not even bothering to disguise the affection in her voice. 'I met him at the orphanage. In fact, he's the only reason I survived it there as long as I did. He was adopted a few years ago by a General or something. I thought I'd never see him again.'

For a moment Eliza was overwhelmed by memories as her words brought back just how important he had been to her. Demetri was safety and comfort, warmth and support. He could always chase the bad things away and make her feel better. She'd been devastated when they had been forced apart. He smiled, the same disarming smile that Aaron possessed.

"It's been a long time," he grinned. He gave a little jerk, like a twitch, but a moment later Eliza saw a bee fly by his head and thought no more of it.

"It has," she agreed. She wasn't sure what she was expecting: a hug, a kiss, a heartfelt admission of at least undying friendship if not something more? She was too caught up in her fantasies to notice that something was off with the situation, but Optimus was not similarly distracted.

"Eliza…" his voice trickled through her head as Demetri flinched again. She took a step closer to him.

"Demetri? Are you alright?"

He tilted his head and gave her a smile edging on manic. His arm swung out from behind his back and then something hard collided with the back of Eliza's head and everything was darkness.

* * *

There was an alarm blaring when she woke up. It pounded in the back of her skull and she brought a hand up to feel the cotton bandages around her head. Jacobs crouched over her, barking orders, but aside from the alarm she couldn't hear anything over the ringing in her ears.

They weren't at the café anymore, she noted. Somehow she'd gotten back to the parking lot where they'd left Optimus and the others. She could see the red truck out of the corner of her eye. There was a deafening boom from somewhere and Jacobs leaned over her as debris and dust rained down all around them. In the midst of the chaos she saw the fighters, excluding Optimus and Ratchet, transform and bound away into the city.

She frowned and tried to sit up. Jacobs looked at her in surprise and pushed her back down. He was still saying something but it was lost on her. Then her world was filled with the deafening sound of jet engines and she looked up to see a red and white jet transform and land in the entrance to the parking lot.

For a moment she could only stare. An imposing image with sweeping red wings and a dark face, the reaper himself, standing stoic and 40 feet tall a few scant yards away. And then she jolted and shot upright, nearly hitting Jacobs. Demetri…it was Demetri!

She didn't know how she knew, but she did, and suddenly she was scrambling to her feet, heedless of Jacobs' shouts for her to come back as she raced to Optimus. She yanked open the door and threw herself into the seat, turning her attention to the comm. Flicking on the external speakers she gasped hoarsely, "Demetri?!"

The enemy fighter had raised his arm, one of the long, intimidating white guns attached powering up for an attack, but he abruptly stopped at the sound of her voice. His head turned to stare at the truck and there was a hiss of static as the comm. line was hacked.

"E…iza?" Maybe it was the static, but he sounded…different than he had in front of the café. He had been smooth and smug there and now that she thought of it that was entirely out of character for him. Now he sounded weak and tired, worn, frail.

The jet tried to raise his arm again, to resume the attack, but seemed to struggle. The arm quivered as it tried to simultaneously rise and fall. She watched with growing concern, finally remember the ticks. That was definitely Demetri and something was very wrong with him.

"Demetri," she said again into the comm. The red and white jerked again and suddenly turned and took a flying leap into the air, thrusters in his feet propelling him upwards. Eliza stared for a moment before she grabbed the stick shift and hit the gas.

"What are you doing?" Optimus demanded, but she didn't answer as they nearly ran over Jacobs, hurtling across the road and onto the dirt terrain beyond with a painful screech of shifting gears. She bounced around the cab recklessly, crying out and momentarily letting go of the wheel when she aggravated her injury on the headrest.

"Put a seatbelt on," he reprimanded gently and she did so, fumbling with it as she blinked away painful tears. Finally it clicked. Properly secured now, she resumed her chase.

Whatever internal battle was going on inside the jet didn't seem to have resolved itself with his decision to flee. The fighter tilted unsteadily from side to side in the air, sporadically gaining and losing altitude, diving and climbing. At one point he turned and appeared to try and shoot at the truck below, but it went so wide that Eliza could barely even hear the harmless impact more than a mile to her left.

A glance ahead told her she was rapidly running out of land as the barren, rocky landscape ended in a sharp cliff above salty waves. The jet dipped again and she made a quick decision, grabbing the lever beside her, twisting counterclockwise and pushing in.

Instantly there was a painful grind and screech of metal on metal. It was obvious that the transformation sequence wasn't meant to be engaged in mid-charge like this, but there was no time. The power behind her head pulsed more intensely, increasing the ache in her skull, as pain flared from some indeterminable source all over her body. Her seat shot upward and she only barely got her feet on the repositioned pedals in time to stop 8 tons of metal from falling on its face. Using the forward momentum she still possessed she made two bonding strides and then jumped, jamming her arms into the gloves for finer hand movement and wrapping her arms around the jet's legs and lower torso.

Unused to the gloves, Eliza's spatial adjustments were to wide and her lose grasp couldn't hold. The jet panicked and pulled up and her grip slipped, thrusters catching the titanic red fighter in the face as they fell backward into space.

They fell for far too long and both came to the realization at the same moment. They'd fallen off the cliff.

The impact with the water sent pain across her back and injured head, nearly knocking her unconscious. Maybe it did for a moment, she wasn't sure. Someone was yelling on the comm. but she was distracted by the fact that her legs were freezing. She frowned and looked down but couldn't discern anything. The light from the windshield was murky and broken, flicking across everything in a way that nauseated her and hurt her eyes. She reached down a hand and gasped when it hit the surface of cold water, water that was up to waist. How did that happen? Something sparked in the darkness and she jumped. The water climbed up her chest but she still felt strangely numb to it.

Sluggishly her hands moved to release the seatbelt, but it wouldn't give. She frowned and fought with the strap, but it refused to be undone. She must have jammed it. Slowly a sense of panic was working its way through the shock as water tickled her chin. Frozen fingers that barely wanted to cooperate anymore pulled desperately on the seatbelt. She inhaled a mouthful of water as it climbed passed her chin and choked, but it was past her nose before she could recover. Optimus was calling her name and it was disturbing how clear the sound remained even after her ears had been swallowed. Fear and regret radiated off him in waves and somewhere in the back of her mind she realized the painful irony: he was the one who had told her to put on the seatbelt.

She thrashed and fought but nothing she could do freed her. Air bubbles clouded and swarmed in front of her darkening vision. Between numbing cold and lack of oxygen her movements were slowing, her instinctive thrashing quietly diminishing. Her world was narrowing, closing up around her, and then the enormous power behind her head seemed to explode. In place of the numbing cold was sudden warmth as her view momentarily expanded again, the entire cockpit bleached white until it was blinding. And then, just as quickly as it had come, it was over and blackness took her again.


	6. Revival

GAH! How did the time pass so quickly? All I can say in my defense is that I've been incredibly busy, having to deal with graduation and then settling into a summer job and then college orientation and just when I got my roommate all set up I switched dorms. So yes, it has been a while because it's been a while since I've had the time and energy to sit down and write this, but I've been piecing it together slowly for about two months now and it's finally done. Yay!

I'm not too sure how happy I am with this one and it totally feels like a filler to me, but it's all very important for the plot so unfortunately there's not much I can do. Here's the turning point though. Now I've finally set up everything I need and things should start to move pretty quickly after this. Think of it like Harry Potter, where it's page 137 before they ever get to the school. Yeah, same thing.

Just one more shout out and then I'll be done. Originally I had planned for this chapter to start in a different way, with Megatron yelling at Starscream, but that has since become a deleted scene. My friend Kallyn and I were role playing a separate universe based off my story and, for totally different circumstances, we ended up doing the scene that starts off this chapter and I liked it so much I thought it was worthy of replacing my original idea. So credit for the opening scene here totally goes to her. Big round of applause! And now, finally, let us begin.

* * *

Demetri sighed as he looked out over the ocean cliff where he'd perched them; the cliff where he'd watched her fall.

They didn't have clearance to leave the base. Megatron would be furious, and that would only make Father angry, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Starscream wasn't happy about being dragged out here either. Demetri forcibly reminded himself that he was the one in charge as he tried to ignore the growing headache from his "partner's" grating protests.

"What the _slag_ are we doing up here?!" Starscream snarled as he tugged and pushed on their forced bond, trying to break the other's control. Demetri rubbed his head, feeling a migraine coming on.

"I'm _trying_ to think, so just CALM DOWN!" he growled before sighing. He never used to shout. The jet was rubbing off on him, or at the very least bringing out the absolute worst in him. He directed his gaze at the water again, thinking of Eliza. She'd fallen…and hadn't resurfaced. Her companions salvaged the mech—Prime—but…she had to be dead.

"Oh cry me a fragging river!" Starscream scoffed, picking up on the other's thoughts. "The girl was worthless anyway. And now that _she's_ gone, Prime won't be a problem. YOU of all people should be happy!" he cackled. Demetri growled in response.

"She was my _friend_ you scrap heap. She never would have been involved if I hadn't let you get control you…you…" he trailed off, panting at the force of his emotions. "Just shut up, would you? How could you understand? I doubt you've ever even had a friend," he huffed.

Starscream cackled again and said, "Who needs a weakling like her?!" Oh, how he loved to torment the little fleshbag fate had stuck him with. "A word of advice, maggot; use the people who will help you and get rid of them before they get too strong!"

Demetri stood and shook his head, pushing his way out of the cockpit. Some deep, dark, terrifying part of his soul wanted to agree and he wasn't sure if it was the influence of the jet once more or an organic part of his personality. Either way, it scared him. He sighed when he stood out in the open breeze.

"If I understand you correctly," he said softly, not turning to look at the jet, "I'd say you failed at that when it came to Megatron."

Starscream was silent for a split second before a new white hot flurry of furious retorts and screams came from his side of the unnatural bond.

"Why you slagging little flesh pile! I'll tear you limb from limb when I get my body back! I'll crush you under my heel like the insect you are, you insolent fool! I'll wring your fluids out with my bare hands!"

Demetri turned, eyes suddenly as wild as Starscream sounded. Perhaps it was being free of the cockpit that prompted him to be so bold, or perhaps the influence of his partner's own madness.

"Ha!" he laughed without mirth. "Get your body back? Don't you get it yet, Screamer? You belong to _me_. You'll never get your body back and when _I_ die, you become spare parts!"

Starscream sent his rage back through their link and screamed.

"Then I will take YOUR body as a replacement! I took control once and it killed your poor little friend," he sneered. "Just you wait fleshbag, your mind will belong to ME!"

Demetri stumbled back as though he'd been struck, shrinking back down to normal size and trembling slightly. It was exhausting to fight Starscream all the time like this. There were nights he was afraid to sleep until the effects of his latest dose of enhancer wore off; afraid that drifting into unconsciousness while under the influence of the drug would give his partner an opening to seize control. He turned his back and edged towards the cliff, putting as much distance between him and the jet as possible.

Starscream sneered. "Yes, that's right weakling! Crawl away like the insect you are!"

Demetri just sat on the edge of the cliff, bringing his knees up and putting his hands to his ears as though that might block the hateful Seeker out. His gaze drifted again to the waves and he whimpered slightly. 'I'm sorry,' he thought, beginning to rock back and forth. 'I'm so sorry, Eliza.'

* * *

Consciousness came and fled in fleeting glimpses. The damp cold disappeared at some point, followed by a choking shock of awareness that faded out of reach before ever really becoming tangible. An oddly familiar voice, rough and yet with an unmistakable undertone of concern, punctured her groggy thoughts now and then as they traveled along in a blurry white interior that gave her a fuzzy sense of déjà vu.

The first moment of true, full consciousness was greeted with the by now all too familiar sight of the infirmary. She was a bit disconcerted to realize that she was even lying in what had become her usual bed. Eliza could feel stiff bandages encasing her head and a thick cast on her right arm. The latter was a mildly confusing discovery considering she didn't remember injuring her arm. Then again, she didn't remember much of what had happened after they hit the water. In all honestly she was pleasantly surprised to find she was alive at all.

She sat up abruptly, ignoring the nauseating dizziness that accompanied the action, and threw back the covers to look down at herself. She was still here. She was still alive…Her hands wandered over her body to make sure that everything was in its proper place.

Slowly she raised her head and looked around the room. The light was on in Jacobs' office but the door was closed and probably locked. She gazed at the light filtering through the frosted glass for a moment before shifting her feet over the edge of the mattress and slipping out of bed. Surprisingly enough she wobbled less than last time, though she noticed that she had developed an odd tendency to drift to the left as she walked if she wasn't careful. As with her previous experiences in sneaking out of the infirmary she couldn't explain the sudden impulse to leave the room's comfortable safety in favor of seeking out her metal partner, except that she could think of no more comfortable, safe place to be than snuggled into his shin on the broad blue foot. Louis had theorized something about a psychological need to be near his energy signature that sounded far more complicated than was absolutely necessary to explain such a simple feeling.

When she got to the elevator it took her a moment to realize she didn't have her key card and, in fact, had no idea where it might be. Jacobs had probably taken it in an effort to make her stay put in her bed. Heaving a sigh she rested her aching head against the smooth elevator doors. She wanted to see him. She needed to see him, to make sure he was alright. She still couldn't believe _she_ was alive. What state was he in? At least he couldn't be dead. She would have known if he was dead, wouldn't she? Pain throbbed in her temples and she wasn't sure.

"Damn it!" she cursed, banging her open palm against the card reader. There was a chime and she fell forward as the doors slid opened. She lay there blinking stupidly for a moment, a dull throb radiating from her injured arm, before pushing herself up.

Frowning at the yawning doors in confusion she poked her head out to glance down the deserted hall. Peering at the card reader she clearly saw the screen display the green "approved" message. She pulled her head back in and tried to puzzle over the strange development, but in all reality her head hurt too much for puzzling and she soon gave up and punched the button for the hanger.

As always the room was deserted at this time of night, save for herself and the fighters. She stopped short halfway across the room with a frown. Optimus wasn't in his usual spot. In fact, he wasn't in the room at all. She paused in the moonlight, wondering what to do now.

"Do you have to be chained to your bed to learn to stay there?" a gruff voice growled from the corner. Eliza scowled, reaching up to rub her aching head.

"I'm fine," she grumbled back. "I just wanted to see…" She trailed off, blinking. There was no one else in the hanger. What was more; she hadn't heard the voice with her ears. Slowly she raised her head and looked to the corner where the white fighter stood, red crosses clearly visible on his shoulders in the moonlight.

"You don't look fine to me," Ratchet grumbled back. Eliza just stared at him. If she really concentrated she could almost feel his annoyance, not as clearly as she felt Optimus but still there all the same.

"You can talk," she whispered.

"Of course I can," Ratchet returned irritably.

"Wait…you can hear us?" a new voice chimed in. Eliza turned her head to Bumblebee and nodded stiffly. She felt a wave of surprise and confusion well up from the towering forms, even Ratchet as he let his ire subside enough to realize the oddity of the situation.

"How?" Bumblebee asked simply. Eliza shook her head.

"I don't know," she said softly.

"Think it might have something to do with her near trip to the Matrix?" Wheeljack directed the question at Ratchet who sighed and gave a mental shrug.

"Maybe, who knows what effects being offline for that long could have on her?"

Eliza blinked. Offline…she'd heard Optimus use that term before. It was their word for dead.

"Wait…I died?" she asked, frowning. She had the impression that Ratchet would have nodded solemnly if he could.

"Your pump stopped for approximately 4.78 Earth minutes." Eliza put a hand to her chest. Her heart had stopped. She'd been dead for over four minutes before Jacobs brought her back.

"Hey, lay off the details Doc. You're scarin' her," Jazz's voice cut into her thoughts and she looked up at him. She could almost feel him smiling comfortingly at her. Eliza mentally latched onto the comfort he offered and took a deep breath.

"Where's Optimus?" she asked, looking around the room once more as if she might have missed him somewhere. She felt a chill run down her spine when no one answered her right away.

"What's wrong with him?" Bumblebee asked softly after a moment. His mental voice quivered, as if he was afraid to ask the question. Eliza came closer and placed a hand on the warm metal of his shin, noticing that she could almost touch his knee. He really was much, much smaller than Optimus.

"I don't know," she admitted softly. "Neither does he. Something…Something's affected his memories. He can't remember who you all are. He barely remembers who _he_ is." She sighed, biting her lip at the sorrow she felt from Bumblebee in particular. "He dreams about you though," she whispered, unsure why she felt the need to volunteer that information, but the spark of hope she felt from him made it worth it.

"Where is he?" she asked again.

"I believe they left him on the lower deck. Their 'repair bay' of sorts," a voice she'd never heard spoke up. She turned to face Amelia's fighter, Prowl. "They're having trouble bringing him back online." Eliza's blood ran cold at that statement. Had her death, however temporary, hurt him somehow? She stiffened as she felt Prowl's entire attention focus on her. Had his optics been activated she would have been the subject of a piercing gaze. "What happened?"

For a moment Eliza was almost too intimidated to answer. Her hand still on Bumblebee, for support now more than anything, she tried to think back over what had happened in the water.

"It was cold," she said softly. "The cockpit was filling with water…the seat belt was jammed…I couldn't get out. I was drowning." She shivered and lowered her head. Jazz shot a feeling without words to Prowl that he shouldn't be asking her this, to which Prowl responded that it was important they know all the facts. Eliza was too preoccupied with the memories to wonder how they managed to perform such a communication without words.

"Just before it went dark," she continued softly, "there was a…a burst of light. The thing behind my head, the power source in his chest, the thing that they want; it was like it exploded or something. Everything was warm for a second…and then it was gone and I passed out."

"The Matrix," Prowl said simply. Eliza blinked.

"He didn't know what it was. Just that they wanted it…I could feel it. What exactly is it?"

"The Autobot Matrix of Leadership," Prowl explained. "An honor bestowed by the Council on our Prime, our leader. It contains the souls of all our fallen brethren." Eliza shivered at the strange warmth that welled up in her chest, the same feeling of warmth and power she'd felt pulsing in Optimus' chest all this time. Except now…it was inside her. But, that didn't make any sense, did it?

"I should go make sure he's alright," she said softly, taking a step away from the yellow minibot.

"What you _should_ do is go back to bed," Ratchet interjected and she almost smiled. No wonder he had chosen Jacobs.

"I will," she promised. "I just…need to see him first." She paused and looked at them, feeling like she should say something else but not knowing what.

"If…" Bumblebee's hesitant voice stopped her. "If you can hear us now…do you think that means Optimus can too?" She turned back and tried to smile at him reassuringly.

"Maybe," she said softly. "He did last time. We'll just have to wait and see." It didn't sound as reassuring as she had hoped it would, but Bumblebee seemed satisfied with the answer and she could feel a touch of hope from the others as well. She paused to look around the room for a moment and realized just how much they missed their leader. It was so obvious she wondered how she hadn't felt it right away.

She sighed and turned to go back to the elevator. "I'm sure he's fine," she threw a final word of reassurance over her shoulder. "I'll let you know if he's not," she promised as the doors opened. Ratchet didn't even protested that that would involve coming back instead of going to bed.

Once in the elevator she hit the button to go down to the repair bay on the floor below. She hadn't been in that room since her first day at the academy, when she'd first met Optimus. As the elevator doors opened her heart skipped a beat as she saw his red and blue bulk, stretched out on the ground like a massive corpse. She took a moment to feel his dormant presence in her mind, reassuring herself that he was still in there.

Like a sleepwalker she moved stiffly into the room, walking up to put her palm against his massive shoulder. She'd never been this close to his head before; it was usually so high off the ground.

"Optimus," she whispered. She bit her lip when there was no reply. "Optimus, please answer me." She sighed and carefully hooked her foot into a seam in his shoulder, careful not to jar her injured arm as she pulled herself up onto his chassis. She crawled to sit by his neck, staring down at his dark optics. She noticed she didn't feel the power pulsing in his chest anymore but pushed the thoughts as to why aside for later.

"Optimus…I'm sorry," she said, rubbing her hands over the cold metal with a shiver. It wasn't supposed to be cold. It was never cold. "This is all because I wanted to follow Demetri. I shouldn't have gone after him by myself. It was a stupid thing to do, especially since I'm not the only one who paid for it." She gazed sadly at his dim optics. "Please wake up," she whispered, shifting to lay on her side.

"I've spoken to the others…I don't know why but I can hear them now. Whether or not you remember them they remember you and they need you." She sighed. "I need you. Please wake up." She closed her eyes, willing him to reply. "Please."

The power she'd grown so used to pulsing behind her head welled up in her chest again, burning through her body. She gasped at the heat, but it wasn't painful. If anything it was comforting, like the touch of a long lost friend. She sat up, and felt the power move down his arm, warming her palm as it flowed into him. Her eyes widened as the presence in her mind flared up.

"Optimus?" she whispered hopefully.

"Present," he replied groggily. She gave a sigh of relief and smiled.

"You scared me there for a minute," she chided. He gave a weak chuckle that reverberated warmly in her mind.

"Then we're even," he replied.

"I'm sorry," she said again softly. "Are you alright?"

"Everything seems to be working order, yes," he replied after a moment of self-diagnostics. Eliza smiled. "And you? Your arm…" She looked down at herself and shrugged.

"Jacobs must have me pretty doped up because I don't feel anything," she replied. "It'll heal on its own," she added at his lingering concern. He was quiet for a moment and she waited patiently, letting him get his bearings again. She didn't know how many systems it took to run a mech his size, but surely it was enough that being rebooting must be a lengthy process.

"What happened?" he finally asked once his processors had finished booting up enough to allow him to sort through his muddled thoughts.

"That's what I was going to ask you," Eliza sighed. "According to Ratchet I died…just for a few minutes but my heart stopped," she added in a whisper.

"I know," Optimus replied softly. "I felt it." Eliza shivered as she felt a wave of panic from him, but it wasn't fresh. It felt residual somehow, like an afterimage. Slowly she realized it was his memory. He was replaying the scene from his memory banks. Her eyes widened. She almost couldn't believe he'd been so scared for her. "I felt something else as well…" he continued, struggling to explain it.

"The Matrix," Eliza said softly. "It…I don't know what it did, but I think it saved me. And I think that's the reason why I can hear the others now and why the elevator opened for me without my card and why I could wake you up." She paused in her excited ramblings and rubbed her chest. She could still feel the warmth there if she concentrated on it.

"I'm not sure," she said a bit more slowly, "but I think, somehow, the Matrix's power was…transferred to me."

"I don't feel it anymore," Optimus admitted, confirming Eliza's earlier observation.

"It doesn't affect you, does it?" Eliza asked, suddenly concerned. "Not having it anymore I mean." Optimus gave a mental shrug.

"Not that I can tell. I'm not sure it was functioning correctly for me anyway." Eliza frowned at that. Perhaps whatever was affecting Optimus' memory had affected his compatibility with the Matrix as well? But that didn't explain the current situation. Why would the Matrix choose a foreign organic as its—for lack of a better word—host in place of the Prime that was chosen to carry it?

"Perhaps it's nothing we need to worry about right now," Optimus offered softly as Eliza's head began to hurt again and she nodded softly. "We can explore the why and the how more later. For now all that's important is that we're both still functional."

Eliza sighed and nodded, shifting to lie on her side again. She could feel his amusement bubbling to the surface of her mind and mumbled, "Quiet. Your foot's not an option with you lying down like this."

"Indeed," was the laughing reply. Comfortable silence passed between them for a few moments.

"I'm sorry," Eliza whispered, eyes on the red metal beneath her cheek. "I never meant to put you in danger like that."

"You're forgiven, no need to keep apologizing," Optimus assured her kindly. "From now on, though, we function as a team."

Eliza nodded. "And we don't go off without the others either," she replied. "I know you're supposed to be in charge so that gives you clearance to be heroic or whatever but…I'm still new at this and you…you don't really remember anything. We're both still learning how things work." She could feel his wholehearted agreement and smiled softly. This was what she had been missing. To feel her mind in sync with his, to feel that she wasn't alone and in fact might never really be alone again. The new power pulsed gently in her chest, yet another tie to him and now to the others as well.

"You need recharge," he prompted softly, pulling her from her thoughts. Eliza smiled softly. It wasn't an order, just a gentle prod really.

"Yeah, I am pretty beat up," she sighed, curling up slightly. "Sleep would be nice." She yawned and let her eyes close. "I'm glad you're alright," she murmured.

"And I am relieved you are functional as well," Optimus returned softly. He watched his small partner fall asleep on his chassis before directing his sensors at the ceiling, mulling over all that had happened.


	7. Noodles

Finally! An update! Again, I apologize. This first semester of college has been…intense…and that doesn't have anything to do with the coursework. Without really going into detail let me just say that life has basically sucked for the last two months, but now things are finally getting back on track (at least I hope) and here's an extra long chapter to appease you for your wait. This is the longest single chapter I've ever written, mostly just because I didn't like the idea of breaking it. I thought this particular character's story deserved to be told all at once in one go.

On a side note, I'd just like to say that the new character's name and the namesake for this chapter are in homage to one of the best restaurants ever: Noodles & Company. If you have one, eat there. It's good.

* * *

The explosion rocked the cockpit. A light twinkling echoed through the air as glass rained down from the crumbling buildings on either side. The windshield wipers screeched and scratched across the pane, trying to sweep the fine fragments away.

Eliza squinted, trying in vain to see through the mess of debris. She knew automatically that Optimus was having just as much difficulty, the reflective fragments interfering with his sensors.

The shadow that descended on them came out of nowhere. In seconds they hit the ground hard, alarms blaring as every screen in the cockpit flashed red. Energy levels were dropping at an alarming rate. There was a leak in the fuel lines somewhere, and a bad one at that. The spark was being starved for energy…except it wasn't. Eliza could feel it, pulsing as strongly as ever, in no danger of guttering out, and she couldn't bring herself to even pretend to feel fear.

The cockpit went dark and she sighed. The lights flickered back on and Eliza stared up at the ceiling with a sigh, the holographic obstructions gone now.

"Well, you died," Jacobs said in a bored tone, crushing out his smoldering cigarette and just as quickly lighting a new one to replace it.

Eliza sighed and slowly shifted her weight forward, pulling the levers and working the pedals to maneuver Prime to sit up.

"He never would have snuck up on me like that in real life," she huffed. She sighed and pulled off her helmet, raking her fingers through slightly damp hair. She glared at his skeptical look. It was just slightly frustrating to keep failing this simple exercise. "I'm serious! That holo-thing doesn't feel like anything," she grumbled. Louis looked up from where he'd been tinkering with a short in one of Wheeljack's head fins.

"Feel?" he asked curiously. Eliza didn't know whether to feel apprehensive or just plain scared by his intrigue.

"Well…yeah," she struggled to explain. "I mean it…it has no soul…no—" she struggled for the right word.

"Spark," Optimus supplied. Eliza nodded her head.

"Spark," she repeated.

"And you can feel that?" Louis asked. Eliza felt Wheeljack's curiosity spike as well.

"Um…yes," she admitted hesitantly, not liking the tell-tale sparkle in his eyes or that lilt in his voice. She had experience being a guinea pig and no desire to go back to that life, even for a friend. Jacobs shook his head, exhaling an expansive cloud of smoke. "Eyes back in your head, Louis, before you electrocute yourself." Eliza felt more than heard Ratchet's pistons shudder in annoyance. She was sure Jacobs heard it too, but he chose to ignore it.

"Alright, run it again," Amelia interrupted briskly in her no-nonsense manner as she strolled into the main hanger from where she'd been observing in the small office in the corner. Eliza and Optimus shared a groan.

"We've done this a hundred times already," Eliza complained.

"And you'll do it a hundred more until you come out alive," Amelia said icily.

"Sorry to break up the party," Aaron interupted, voice echoing through the hanger as he stepped off the elevator, "but duty calls."

"If you think I'm letting _her_ go out there—" Amelia started.

"Mel, calm down before you hurt yourself," Aaron smirked.

"She can't even survive the simulator!"

"Lucky for us it's a recon mission. No combat training necessary," Aaron replied easily. Amelia fixed her smoldering gaze on him for a long moment before sighing and pushing past him. "Fine. I'll page the others. Be ready to go in ten minutes." She stomped to the elevator.

Eliza manipulated the levers and pedals to help Optimus pushed himself to stand once more on his wide blue feet. Once they were up the girl fixed her gaze on Aaron with a sigh. "Alright, be honest with me. I've been here two months and in all that time I've never seen her smile. Is she _ever_ in a good mood?"

Aaron just smirked up at her. "In public? Where other people can see? No, not usually." Eliza shook her head as Jacobs got up from the console he'd been sitting behind for the better part of three hours, wincing as his back cracked.

"Same old, same old?" he asked Aaron who shrugged as he moved to the lockers to pull on his helmet.

"Basically. They blew a city to kingdom come about two hours south of here and we get survivor duty." Jacobs swore.

"You _are_ going to get rid of that thing before you even think about getting in, aren't you," Ratchet growled. It wasn't a question. The physician sighed and crushed the cancer stick under his foot. "As a person trained in organic medicine you should know better than to willingly take that toxin into your systems."

Jacobs snarled. "Don't talk like you're in any position to cast stones," he retorted as he began to climb up into the cockpit. "You've got your own vices and you know it, so be quiet and let me enjoy mine in peace."

The watching teens shared a glance but weren't given much time to ponder those cryptic words as Jacobs barked at them to get a move on.

* * *

"I hate recon missions," Izzy complained as they rolled through the rubble of what had at some point been a city. The sky was gray and ash rained down on them like polluted snow. Not a single building had been spared, all of them at least half gone if not more. It was a dead city in every sense of the word.

"What happened here?" Eliza breathed.

"If I had to guess I'd have to say your boyfriend and his buddies," Jason bit out. Eliza blinked as her cheeks colored, glad the other's couldn't see it in the safety of Optimus's cab.

"He's not my—"

"Can we keep the chatter to a minimum?" Amelia cut in. Eliza sighed and turned her attention back to the city, or what was left of it.

"It's like something out of one of your dreams," she said to Optimus. He didn't answer but he'd taken on such a serious, solemn feeling that Eliza thought it best not to push him into a conversation he didn't willingly join.

At the head of the group Amelia hit Prowl's breaks. From her elevated seat in the truck Eliza could see the reason even from the back of the convoy. A building had fallen across the road, blocking any further progression by vehicle.

"Looks like we're hoofing it," Izzy declared, crawling out of the van and shouldering her automatic weapon. Eliza frowned and leaned out the window.

"Why not just transform?" she wondered. Her roommate looked up and shook her head.

"Nah, sorry. If there are any survivors in this mess we can't risk causing more damage with clumsy robots," she called back. The red van beside her gave an indignant rev of its engine and Izzy laughed and patted the door. "Sorry, but it's the truth."

Eliza slowly pulled her own gun out of the storage cabinet under her feet. She hated this thing, and, in any case, she wasn't a very good shot. In all honesty she had hoped she'd never have to use it. She didn't think she could shoot another human being, no matter whose side they were on.

"This is a waste of time," Jason was grumbling when she finally climbed out of Optimus to join the others on the street. "We're not going to find any survivors in this."

His brother winced. "I know it's not in your nature to be cheerful, bro, but could you at least pretend to be optimistic for the rest of us?"

"He was just being realistic," Sunstreaker snorted behind them.

"Gotta admit though," Jazz put in, "realistic ain't always the best for morale."

Eliza looked between the two groups, humans and sentient cars, amused by the interaction that was going unnoticed by the other humans present.

"Eliza!" Amelia barked, making the girl jump. "You could at least pretend to be listening," she said impatiently. Eliza blushed, realizing that not only were all the humans watching her but she could feel the attention of every fighter focused on her as well.

"…Sorry, please continue."

Amelia snorted. "As I was saying, we'll split up into groups of two. Sweep the area thoroughly for any survivors. Don't be afraid to get your hands dirty and move the debris if you have to, but be careful. Some of these buildings don't look very stable."

Eliza turned her gaze to the burned out skeleton of a building beside her, eyeing a fat raven perched on an upper beam. She wasn't looking forward to the prospect of shifting through bodies, searching for a pulse. The raven let out a hoarse croak and took flight.

* * *

Eliza followed Aaron through the deserted streets, beginning to feel a bit paranoid as her eyes swept the area for movement. At least she would feel it if Demetri and Starscream or any of their group showed up, so an ambush was pretty much impossible. Still, she couldn't seem to shake the feeling of being watched.

She barely suppressed a shiver at their eerie surroundings. Whatever had happened here seemed to have been specially geared towards the eradication of all humans in the area. She needn't have worried about shifting through bodies, so far there were none.

"Hey, check this out," Aaron called. She moved to follow him into what was once someone's living room, feeling a bit odd as she stepped over the broken frames of family photos littering the floor.

"What is it?"

"It's a record player!" Aaron gushed. "The last time I saw one of these was in a museum." Eliza frowned as she came closer, letting the gun slip from her hands to hang by its strap at her side.

"How does it work?" she asked. Aaron grinned.

"Watch and learn." He picked up one of the miraculously unharmed records in a basket beside the player, carefully removing the oily disk from its paper case. He reverently laid it in the player and set the needle in its outer grove. Flicking the switch with an air of great importance, he stepped back expectantly. Nothing happened. Eliza tilted her head.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Aaron shot her a light glare before dropping to his knees behind the player to examine the plug.

"Damn," he sighed at the melted plastic in the blackened socket. "The plug's fried."

Eliza felt a little disappointed. She had wanted to see what the strange device could do. Reaching out a hand she touched the cool metal side of the player. Instantly the record began to spin and music erupted from the tinny speakers. Aaron jumped and fell back as Eliza suppressed a cry and backpedaled.

"What did you do?" he wondered, scrambling up to stand next to her. Eliza shook her head.

"Nothing. I just touched it." He looked at her strangely and opened his mouth to say something else but the crackle of their radios cut him off.

"What are you two doing over there?" For once the irritated voice belonged to Jacobs rather than Amelia. "Does the word 'discrete' mean anything to you? Shut that thing off!" Aaron winced.

"Sure thing, Doc. Sorry," he replied. Looking at the box a bit helplessly, he moved to tug on the plug, trying to pry it away from where it had melted to the socket. He managed to yank it out, but the player wouldn't stop. Frowning he tried to pull the needle arm off of the record but it wouldn't budge. In fact, the player seemed almost defiant, letting out a hiss of static like an angry cat. His expression turned to almost panic.

"Make it stop!" he shouted at Eliza over the music. "Turn it off!" Eliza just put up her hands helplessly.

"I don't even know how I turned it on," she replied.

"Move," came a growl from behind them. They turned to see Jacobs with his gun raised. Aaron started to protest but Eliza grabbed him and dragged him out of the way just as a deafening bang echoed through the air. Silence followed.

"Man, what a waste," Aaron sighed mournfully.

"Do me a favor," Jacobs glared at them. "Don't touch anything else." Aaron sighed and looked at Eliza, who ducked her head sheepishly. She was saved from having to explain, however, as their radios sprang to life in stereo once more.

"Hey guys…" It was either Nick or Jason's voice but it was only barely recognizable. Eliza had never heard either of them sound so shaken. "Somebody should probably get over here. We found one."

"Found one what?" Aaron asked, momentarily forgetting their whole reason for being there in all the excitement.

"A survivor! What else?" an identical but far more temperamental voice answered. So it had been Nick the first time, Eliza noted.

Jacobs snatched his radio off his belt, demanding their position. Aaron and Eliza exchanged a surprised look before hurrying after the doctor as the older man took off into the rubble.

They found the twins crouching in what was left of a restaurant. Sitting with his legs drawn up, hugging his knees as he perched on a broken chair between them, was a young boy. He couldn't have been much more than 11 or 12 years old. Wide green eyes peered at the newcomers from behind a veil of scraggly dark hair. He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in days. Eliza glanced at Aaron before moving to stand beside Amelia, who was busy interrogating the twins about the boy.

"What's his name?" she wondered. Nick shrugged.

"He won't tell us."

"Noodles," Jason put in. Nick shared a look with the two girls before they all turned to look at his brother.

"What?"

Jason pointed at the only word still readable on the charred restaurant sign. "Noodles," he repeated. Amelia glared.

"His name most certainly is _not_ noodles," she growled. Stepping up to the boy, she crouched down in front of him, automatically adopting a much softer manner. "What's your name?" she asked sweetly. The boy looked at her with his wide, dead eyes.

"What does it matter? Everyone's dead anyway," he whispered hoarsely.

Silence.

"Like I said," Jason grumbled, "his name is Noodles."

Amelia sighed and sat back on her heels, staring at the boy. "Are you injured?" No answer. "Are you hurt anywhere?" she tried again, louder.

"Give it up," Nick sighed. "He won't talk except to say everyone's dead." Amelia frowned and glared at her feet in thought for a moment.

"Jacobs. Eliza," she said without looking up. "Take…the boy back to the fighters and wait there for us. We'll take him back to base for medical attention and figure out what to do with him from there."

Eliza frowned. "Why me?" she asked.

"Because you're a distraction in the field and you still haven't passed your combat training," Amelia glared. Eliza's fought the urge to take a step back under the intensely heated gaze and wisely chose not to argue, instead holding out a hand for the boy.

* * *

The trek back to the fighters was eerily silent. The boy—Noodles—held tight to Eliza's hand and kept his other arm wrapped around his thin form, stumbling along between them and refusing to raise his eyes from the ground.

"That the sparkling?" Sideswipe asked as soon as they arrived. Eliza watched as Jacobs slowly pried the boy's hand from hers and led him over to Ratchet. With a sigh she moved to join the parked Lamborghinis.

"So Nick already told you?" she wondered as she leaned against the red one. She knew better than to even think about leaning against Sunstreaker. Sideswipe's engine revved the affirmative.

"He's so young…" she said softly, mostly to herself. Her gaze turned to sweep the rubble around them and she involuntarily wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "How did he even survive this?" Neither of the twins had an answer and eventually she wandered over to Optimus, who was still brooding, to wait for the others.

* * *

Eliza tossed and turned that night, thinking about Noodles. She hadn't had the best childhood herself, but at least she hadn't had everyone she knew suddenly taken away from her like that. The boy was staying in the infirmary tonight and she almost went to see him, but halfway down the hall she thought of what Jacobs would do to her if he caught her and, thinking better of it, changed her course to head to the elevator. There was still the question of Optimus's strange mood, which, if anything, had only grown worse when they returned after the mission.

Eliza sighed, hugging her robe tight around herself in the cool hanger and wishing she'd thought to borrow Izzy's slippers as she padded across the cold metal floor towards the towering forms along the far wall. She frowned when she noticed something peeking out from behind Optimus foot as she approached and curiously tilted her head as she peered around the massive blue pillar. Her eyes widened as she took in the cot half hidden in the giant's massive shadow. There was a note on the pillow and numbly she reached down to pick it up.

"At least this way you won't catch pneumonia or ruin your back," she read the messy writing. She blinked at it for a moment before a smile spread across her face. Peeking out from around Optimus's leg she grinned at Ratchet and waved the paper.

"Jacobs?" she called.

"Who else?" the ambulance snorted, but he sounded just as amused as her. She laughed and tucked the note into the pocket of her robe before snatching the blanket off the cot and curling up on Optimus's broad foot.

'You've been awfully quiet today,' she directed the thought at him, deciding it was best to keep this conversation private from the others. 'Any particular reason why?' He didn't answer right away but she hadn't expected him too. Leaning back she stared up at the stars visible through the hanger's glass ceiling, watching a few shooting stars pass overhead before his smooth voice finally entered her mind.

'That seemed…familiar,' he finally admitted and she could recognize the familiar frustration he felt over his fragmented memories.

'What? The city?' she wondered. She kept hoping that asking questions would jog his memory, but so far it only seemed to frustrate him more.

'The wreckage, yes…but it was more than that. The whole scenario felt familiar,' he replied and she frowned, thinking of Noodles now.

'Think one of the others would know?' she suggested. She received the equivalent of a mental shrug and knew she'd have to be the one to ask. Optimus had been able to talk to the others for over a month now, since the Matrix had passed to her, but for some reason he avoided communication with them if he could help it, preferring to remain isolated. This tendency understandably annoyed most of the others, all except for Bumblebee who had practically sunk into a depression because of it.

"Hey," she said out loud, shifting to face the other silent mechs. "Did any of you guys get a sense of déjà vu out there today?" Heavy silence filled her mind and she sat up a little straighter in surprise. For the first time she concentrated on their feelings and realized that the uneasiness she'd felt overwhelming her all day hadn't belonged only to Optimus.

"Come ta mention it," Jazz finally broke the silence, "the whole thing was kinda reminiscent of Blue, wasn't it guys?" She could feel Prowl stiffen, and Ratchet didn't seem too comfortable either.

"Blue?" she repeated, voicing Optimus's confusion for him. There was the same sense of vague familiarity he associated with all of them attached to that name, the feeling that he should know but didn't.

"Bluestreak," Jazz continued when no one else jumped in. "We found him in kinda the same state. Exactly the same, actually."

Eliza tightened her arms around her knees as a shiver of remorse that wasn't hers ran up her spine. She could feel Optimus reaching for the memory Jazz was describing, but it stubbornly hovered just beyond his reach. She sighed softly, leaning back against his ankle.

"He doesn't remember, does he?" Prowl directed the question at Eliza. The girl looked up in surprise before shaking her head. "No…sorry."

The disappointed silence was almost suffocating. Eliza tugged the blanket up over her shoulders and turned on her side, her back to the others, as she snuggled into Prime's surprisingly warm foot. Even Ratchet didn't mention that she chose to neglect the cot.

* * *

Polishing was a rather meditative pastime, Eliza had decided. Working the soft rag into the blue plating was the perfect mindless pastime she needed to just think. It seemed to relax Prime pretty well too. His engine rumbled quietly above her and she felt rather like she was petting an enormous, contented cat. She giggled at the amusing mental image that thought produced, the sound turning into a full-blown laugh at Optimus's answering indignance.

"What are you laughing at?" an annoyed voice demanded. Eliza sobered and glanced over to find Jason, rag in hand, attending to Sunstreaker's paintjob. She smiled and tilted her head.

"Nothing."

He snorted and turned away to continue polishing the immaculate gold armor.

"You missed a spot," Sunstreaker complained.

"Shove it up your exhaust pipe," Jason retorted. "I wouldn't even be here except you won't SHUT UP."

"It's not my fault I can't move on my own or I'd take care of it myself."

"Well it's not _my_ fault either!" Jason poked an accusing finger at the yellow plating.

"Hey! Watch it!" Sunstreaker shouted in reply. "Those fragging oils on your hands leave smudges, you know!"

Jason growled and threw his rag down. "That's it! Do it yourself!" he snarled, ignoring the protests that followed him all the way to the elevator. Once the elevator doors closed behind him the warrior lapsed into an almost stunned silence, as though he couldn't really believe that the boy had walked out on him like that. Then his attention abruptly shifted to where Eliza was polishing Optimus's leg and she skipped a beat in her circles, wondering what he would say.

"How did you get her to do that?" Sunstreaker finally asked, with the air of asking someone how they managed to teach their dog a particularly impressive trick. But Eliza knew better than to take offense.

"The fact that he doesn't antagonize me the whole time helps," she answered smartly for her partner and smirked at the feeling of surprise and annoyance that radiated from the yellow Lamborghini. They still weren't used to her being able to listen in on their "private" conversations. Warm amusement flooded her mind and she smiled gently as she went back to polishing, glad that her partner was in a better mood today than he had been the day before.

"…has to be another option!" Eliza turned at the sound of raised voices floating across the room. Jacobs and Amelia stepped out of the elevator in the midst of a heated argument.

"Regulations are regulations. They can't be changed for anyone," Amelia argued back, her voice as apathetic as always. "I'm sorry but he can't stay here." Frowning at those words, Eliza dropped the cleaning rag in her bucket and made her way towards them.

"What's going on?" she interjected, cutting off Jacobs's response. The glare Amelia shot her clearly said it was none of her business, but Eliza was used to that by now. She knew why Amelia tried to keep her out of the loop. The fact that Eliza would take over command of their little group someday soon hung in the air between them, unspoken by either of them but there none the less.

"She wants to send the kid to the orphanage," Jacobs said simply, his tone clearly one of 'tell her what a shit idea that is.' Eliza's eyes widened.

"You want to send Noodles _there_?!" she demanded. Amelia's glare never wavered.

"His name is _not_ 'noodles,' and furthermore until he tells us his real name and we can locate his relatives we have no other choice. This is a school. It cannot be held responsible for—"

"You can't," Eliza interrupted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You cannot send him there," she insisted. "He can't handle that. Sending that kid there will destroy him!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell her," Jacobs jumped in. "Amelia, we can't send that boy there. He's been hurt enough as it is."

Amelia looked between them for a moment, surprised that they were ganging up on her, before quickly schooling her features once more. "Don't you both think you're being just a little overly dramatic about this?"

"_Dramatic_!" Jacobs growled, dropping his cigarette butt and stomping it out. "Amelia, you don't know what you're talking about. You don't know what you're dooming this kid too!"

"Now wait a minute!" Amelia seethed.

"What do you really know about the orphanages?" Eliza cut in. Her voice seemed eerily at odds with theirs, much softer than their near shouts and having taken on a husky, low and almost dangerous quality. She could feel a wave of anxiousness form Optimus but ignored it. "You don't have any idea of the things that go on there, and believe me you do _not_ want to subject him to that." Eliza hesitated to continue, not sure how much she really wanted to reveal about her past, but when Amelia opened her mouth to argue she did the only thing she could think of to finally silence her self-proclaimed rival: she rolled up her sleeve to reveal the ugly brand on her arm.

"Does _that_ look like I'm overreacting?" she hissed. "You have no idea what really goes on at those places. You think you're doing the kid a favor, but you're not. Noodles won't _survive_ in there, Amelia, and I am not exaggerating that. We absolutely cannot let them send him there." Amelia's eyes had gone wide, glued to those glaring numbers, and her face was completely white. Jacobs was staring at his feet, suddenly unable to look at either of them.

Silence settled on them after that. Eliza's sudden burst of anger melted into unease at the shock on Amelia's face accompanied by an equally numb emotion radiating from the mechs behind her. Slowly, she rolled her sleeve back down, rubbing the spot over the brand as though she could erase it from existence. Awkwardly she awaited Amelia's response. Eliza had never seen the other girl let her mask slip like this before. The usually stoic teen looked almost certainly frightened. It made Eliza feel a bit bad for having to force her to face reality so roughly, but what else could she have done? Amelia had to understand that they had to do everything they could to keep Noodles away from the orphanages.

"I'll see what I can do," she said at length, "but it's not really my decision." She looked like she wanted to say more but clamped her mouth shut and turned on her heal, executing a perfect parade about face as if by instinct, retreating to her office in the corner of the hanger. Jacobs waited until she'd left before raising his head to consider Eliza again.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Eliza fidgeted with her sleeve for a moment. "I'm fine," she muttered, brushing past him to get to the elevator, not in the mood to answer Optimus's questions right now.

* * *

It was well after dark when Eliza found herself in the hanger again. She'd gone straight to the infirmary after leaving, intending to speak with Noodles, figure something out, tell him to run away if nothing else—but he hadn't been there. In fact, no one had been able to find him all day. Part of her hoped that he had escaped on his own, but had that been the case he would have surely been caught by the tight security all around the school's perimeter. However, no alarms had been raised, which could only mean that he was still in the school somewhere.

Sighing in defeat she stepped off the elevator, intending to go curl up on the cot by Optimus, when she heard voices. Glancing up, she was surprised to find Amelia standing before Prowl. For a moment Eliza could only stare. She'd never heard Amelia talk to him before, or really treat him like a living, sentient thing at all. For a long moment she was frozen, just watching, before common sense caught up with her and she ducked into the shadows by Amelia's office.

"They wouldn't listen to me." Amelia was pacing as she talked, hands clenched behind her back. "They're going to send him on his way tomorrow, provided they can find him anyway." She paused and ran her fingers through her hair which, for the first time since Eliza had known her, had been freed from the tight bun to cascade down her back. The girl stopped pacing, staring at nothing for a long moment before turning almost hesitantly to look up at her partner.

"What about Bluestreak?"

"No," Prowl bristled.

"You said yourself that their situations are similar," Amelia argued. "If that's true than there's a good chance that they could connect, and if the boy is a pilot then they can't—"

"No," Prowl interrupted again, this time sounding downright angry. "Bluestreak has been through enough."

"I'm not trying to cause him harm!" Amelia retorted.

"No, you're just trying to use him," was the cool reply. Amelia's mouth opened and closed a few times before she turned abruptly, stalking unseeing past Eliza's hiding place to the elevator. The hidden girl waited until the she heard the distant rumble of the elevator rising through the floors before standing slowly and stepping out of the shadows.

"You didn't tell me Bluestreak was here," she accused softly, walking towards Prowl.

"Because it is irrelevant," the black and white replied.

"Doesn't sound irrelevant. Why isn't he here with you? He doesn't have a pilot?" Eliza pressed. She got the feeling that, had he had control over his own body at the moment, the mech's door appendages would have been vibrating with his temper.

"Not anymore." It was Bumblebee who gave the quiet answer. "Blue's…pilot was deactivated in the war."

"Oh…they were close?" Eliza asked awkwardly. She still hadn't quite figured out what they thought of their human partners. Optimus seemed to genuinely like her, at least she liked to think so, but for some of the others it felt more like they were just tolerating them because they had no choice rather than maintaining a true close relationship.

"Bluestreak has an unhealthy tendency to get overly attached to things sometimes," Prowl responded emotionlessly. Eliza frowned.

"Maybe a new pilot would be good. It could help him get over it." A shiver ran up her spin at the glare she felt from the tall white mech before her.

"Bluestreak is not a pawn to be used in that boy's name," he nearly growled. Eliza glared.

"Hey, I'll admit I want to help Noodles and if Amelia's right about them being a match and making the kid a pilot will keep him here, then I'm all for that—but I have not and will not force any of you to do anything you don't want to. I thought I'd already proven that point." She waited, daring him to make a snappy comeback but only silence answered her. "Where is he?" she asked after a moment, surprised she'd never seen this other mech, or felt him, if he was indeed in the school somewhere.

"They keep him in the repair bay," Ratchet answered. "In the back…under a sheet." Eliza winced at such blatant disrespect, but then again what else were they supposed to do with a defunct fighter? She supposed she should feel lucky they'd kept him around at all.

"Thanks," she replied, granting the medic a nod and a small smile. Optimus was cautioning her in her mind and she could feel him tentatively agreeing Prowl's side. When she turned back to the tactician she made sure her partner knew she was addressing him too before she spoke.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do _something_." With that she turned to go back to the elevator.

* * *

It was so obvious Eliza didn't know how she'd never noticed it before, though she'd only been the repair bay twice and both times she'd been rather preoccupied. There, at the far end of the room, just as Ratchet had described, sat what could only be Bluestreak.

The sheet had been pulled aside and Eliza's eyes widened in shocked surprise. 'He looks exactly like Prowl…' she thought as she took in the still mech. Aside from the differences in the paint job they looked nearly identical. It was a bit unsettling. 'Great…two Prowls. That's all I need.'

She was so caught up in the mech that she almost didn't notice Noodles curled up in the pile of discarded sheet until she was standing next to him.

"So this is where you've been hiding," she said, surprised and relieved to finally locate the missing boy. "How'd you even get down here?" She didn't expect a response given the boy's self-induced silence, so she was taken aback when he actually replied.

"I snuck onto the elevator one time when you were getting off," he explained. His voice was quiet and a bit hoarse from disuse. "It was like…something down here was calling to me and I just had to come find out what it was. I'm sorry…are you mad?" Eliza just gaped for a moment before offering him a smile.

"No, I'm not mad. I'm just glad I found you," she assured him. "You said…you felt something calling to you?" The boy nodded. "Him, I think…but he I think he's sleep. I can't wake him up," he said, sounding a little disappointed. Eliza turned to look up at the mech and bit her lip. She thought about what how she'd revived Optimus the last time she was down here and then of the record player the day before. She still didn't fully understand how to use the Matrix, but it obviously granted her certain powers.

"Maybe I can do something about that," she said almost to herself as she took a step towards the mech, placing her palm against his leg. She shivered. It was stone cold.

"Bluestreak?" she whispered, eyes searching that dark face. "Bluestreak, wake up." She closed her eyes, trying to remember how she had done this before. "Please," she whispered, willing it to happen. Her fingers began to tingle and she couldn't quite keep the smile from her face. "Come on, wake up. I need to talk to you," she prodded, feeling warmth fan out over the cold metal around her hand. There was the weak stirring of something against her consciousness and her grin widened. It was harder than it had been with Optimus—Bluestreak had been asleep for far longer—but she pushed harder and slowly, slowly she felt his mental presence growing stronger.

"Wha…who?" the gray mech's voice filled her head. He sounded young…far younger than any of the others in the hanger. Eliza smiled and took a step back to ease the angle on her neck as she looked up at him.

"Hello," she said gently. "Are you Bluestreak?" He processed that slowly and she could feel his confusion.

"Yeah…who are you?" She paused, considering how best to answer that.

"My name is Eliza," she said at last. "I'm Optimus Prime's partner. I woke you up because I need to ask a favor of you."

"Optimus Prime…but he…" Bluestreak trailed off. Eliza was tempted to prompt him to continue, but if this worked there would be time for that later. Noodles was her priority at the moment.

"Bluestreak, I hear you lost your pilot, and for that I'm sorry, but I'm here to ask you if you'd consider taking on another one," she said in her most diplomatic tones, opting to cut right to the point. She felt the gray mech tense and she quickly continued before he could protest, "Just hear me out. This boy," she gestured to Noodles, "has been through a lot and I think you might be the only person who knows how he feels. I think you two might be able to understand each other, and to help each other."

"No…I'm sorry I…you seem nice enough but I can't…" Bluestreak started to protest and, without knowing how she knew, Eliza was certain that if she didn't jump in he would start rambling and then she'd never get a word in edgewise.

"Bluestreak," she stepped forward to put a hand on his leg again, noting that the armor was already warming up, "I understand the position you and the others are in here and out of respect of that I would never make any of you do anything that you didn't want to do. But I do need your help, and so does this boy." She glanced at Noodles as she chose her next words. She didn't want to scare the boy. "There are some people who want to send him away because his family's dead and he's alone now. I think you understand how that feels." A wave of remorse told her that she guessed was right and she forged on. "You're the only one here that can help him, and I think he can help you too because, Bluestreak, you need to move on. I know how you feel, I've lost people too, but that doesn't mean I shut myself off from the world." She paused long enough to let all of that sink in. "But, if that's what you really want, I'll let you shut down again and never bother you about it again."

Bluestreak was quiet. She felt his attention shift to Noodles, scrutinizing the boy who peered up at him, silent but attentive. "What makes you think I can even have another pilot?" he asked at length. Eliza tried to think of how best to respond, but was saved from having to as Noodles surprised her yet again.

"Because you called to me," the boy piped up. "And besides, you feel the same as me," he added. Turning his attention to Eliza now the boy wrapped the sheet tight around his shoulders. "What happens if I'm a pilot?" he wondered. "I get to ride in him like you?"

Eliza laughed. "Yes, and you get to stay here."

* * *

Eliza moaned and drew the blankets over her head at the sound of voices. She couldn't have slept for more than a few hours. Bluestreak had been dangerously low on energy and they'd been forced to try and refuel him, which proved to be easier said than done. His model was so different from Optimus's that it took quite a bit of struggling (and laughing on Bluestreak's part) to figure it out. After that she'd had the fun of trying to guide Noodles into moving the mech into the lift leading to the hanger, which had taken another hour and a half because, though Noodles was incredibly gifted at it and caught on almost as fast as she had, no one can master walking immediately. Then, of course, there'd been the inevitable fight with Prowl once they did finally manage to get the gray mech to the hanger. That argument was far shorter than Eliza had anticipated, however, as Bluestreak was able to charm the other mech with surprising ease. Eliza made a mental note of Bluestreak's apparent powers concerning an angry Prowl for future reference. Finally, with those tasks complete, she'd retreated to her cot only to be kept awake through the night by the two new partners talking about anything and everything. It was enough to almost make her regret even trying to help.

"Eliza!" Amelia's voice cut through the haze. Eliza groaned and poked her head out from under the blankets.

"What?" she demanded blearily.

"Front and center," the other girl demanded, crossing her arms where she stood in front of the row of mechs, waiting.

"Amelia…it's too early," Eliza protested.

"Now!"

Grumbling, Eliza stumbled up from the bed wrapped in the blanket and dragged herself to stand before the other girl.

"Yes?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"Care to explain this?" Amelia asked, pointing at something to the right. Eliza followed her finger to where Bluestreak was currently sitting at the end of the line of robots with Noodles curled up on his thigh, wrapped it the sheet that had been covering the gray mech. Eliza blinked.

"Nope. I have no idea how that happened," she said dismissively. Amelia frowned.

"No idea?"

"None."

"You expect me to believe that you spent the night in here and didn't notice that boy _somehow_ manage to maneuver that fighter up from the repair bay, in the middle of the night, despite the fact that he's never piloted before in his life?"

Eliza shrugged. "He must be a prodigy. I didn't hear a thing." Amelia's eyes narrowed and Eliza couldn't help but smile. Still grinning, she turned to return to her bed, only to be yanked back by her blanket. Turning she saw Amelia's foot planted firmly on it.

"Where do you think you're going?" Uh-oh…

"Back to bed…?" Eliza tried.

"I think not," Amelia retorted. A sly smile was growing on her lips. Eliza hated that smile. "I let you take yesterday off, but today you're scheduled for more simulator training." Eliza groaned.

"What? Come on, Amelia. I haven't slept and—"

"Oh, you haven't? But didn't you just get done telling me that you slept all night without any interruptions? You wouldn't have been lying to me, now would you?" Eliza glared at her for a long moment, but she knew she had been backed into a corner. There was nothing more she could do. It was give in or be caught.

"…No," she answered reluctantly.

"Good," Amelia replied brightly. "Then if you slept so well you shouldn't have any problems being fully alert for the simulator exercises. I'll be back to supervise in half an hour."

Eliza watched her go in disbelief, not moving from her spot as she watched her too-smug rival enter the elevator. Once the doors had closed she let out a frustrated growl that woke Noodles with a startled squeak.

"I give up!" she threw her arms in the air. "I can't win with her! I don't know how you can even stand her!" She turned to glare at Prowl. "Why'd you even pick someone like her? She's nothing like you!"

"You're not a very good representative of Optimus Prime either," Prowl replied calmly. Eliza froze and just stared at him in wide-eyed surprise for a moment before shaking her head and grumbling to herself as she trudged back to her cot, "I take it back. I think I see the resemblance now."

Jazz's laughter rang out over the hanger, unheard by Noodles who blinked after Eliza's retreating back in surprise, wondering what he'd just missed.


	8. Motive

Okay, I have literally had this written forever, I just never got around to typing it up. I have to say, this chapter was like pulling teeth, and I'm not entirely sure how happy I am with it given the massive amount of talking going on, but it was all necessary plot development. Anyway, the action picks up a lot in the next several chapters so hopefully that will make up for all the talking here. And I'm seriously done with the ridiculously long delays. I love this story too much to let it die by way of being left alone to collect dust. So, enjoy this chapter and there'll be more to come shortly!

* * *

"I'm sorry I'm not very good at this—but I am really new to it so I guess that's to be expected, huh? But I'll try to do better because I really do want to and—"

Eliza tried not to laugh as Noodles babbled over his comm. to an exasperated Amelia who was trying to teach him the finer pints of keeping the giant mech balanced in its movements.

Jason, who had once again been goaded into polishing duty by Sunstreaker, snorted and shook his head.

"Just because he didn't talk for a few days doesn't mean he has to make up for lost time," he grumbled.

"Be nice," Eliza admonished, earning a glare. The more volatile twin looked like he might say something else, but it was interpreted by clanging footsteps behind them.

"Where you headed, Noodles?" Eliza called out curiously as Bluestreak passed them.

"The shooting range," the boy replied cheerily, voice clearly as excited as Bluestreak felt. "Amelia says I'm doing really good and asked if I wanted to try shooting and Bluestreak got really excited so I said yeah and now we're going to go try that out."

Jason's eye twitched at the convoluted explanation but Eliza was too busy frowning at the hanger doors where Amelia was already waiting to notice. Trying her best to suppress a full out glare, Eliza strolled purposefully to join the blonde.

"Are you coming to watch too?" Noodles asked happily but Eliza didn't answer as she climbed up to stand beside Amelia. If there was one thing that Eliza had learned about the other girl it was that the direct approach was usually best.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded. "You're going to give that kid a gun?"

"In case you haven't noticed, he's basically driving a giant gun," Amelia replied without looking at her. Eliza twitched, clearly feeling both Prowl and Prime tensing up.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just call Bluestreak a walking weapon," she muttered.

"And what would you call it?" Amelia replied coolly.

Eliza opened her mouth and abruptly shut it, pushing away the familiar indignant anger that wasn't entirely hers (though she'd come to contribute to it more over time).

"That's not the point," she said, getting the conversation back on track.

"Then what is the point?" Amelia looked at her for the first time. Eliza glared.

"The _point_ is that the kid is just that—a kid. He's even younger than Tommy. We shouldn't be subjecting him to this!"

"You wanted him to stay here," Amelia retorted. "This is the price. If you don't like it then perhaps you should have thought of that before." Eliza just gaped, at a complete loss for words. The smallest of smug smiles made its way onto Amelia's face.

"Unlike some people, he passed the battle simulation with flying colors—on his first try," Amelia said with a meaningful glance at a very red-faced Eliza. "And he's a darn good shot too. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Eliza glared for a moment more before the sound of gunfire drew her attention to Noodles and Bluestreak, who had begun the targeting exercise. She still felt that this was wrong, but she also knew that further arguing wouldn't do her any good. She glanced at the targets, all of them shot clean through the bull's-eye, and sighed.

At least Amelia was right about one thing. He _was_ a darn good shot.

* * *

"You said they were dead!"

Demetri cried out as his back connected with the wall, his head hitting hard and making lights burst before his eyes. He slid a few inches, only to be stopped by a large hand wrapped around his throat.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself—_son_?" The last word was spat like the most wretched of insults. Demetri sputtered, struggling to draw a breath as the hand around his throat twitched briefly along with the rest of his attacker's body.

"I…I saw them fall," he wheezed.

"And you didn't think to check the bodies to be sure?" The hand tightened, cutting off all air.

"Enough, Doctor," a louder, much raspier voice rang out. The boy was released and slid to the ground, coughing and rubbing his throat.

"Starscream," the raspy voice continued, "what is your report?"

"The Prime was deactivated when they pulled him from the water," the jet replied. The screechy voice was calm, almost bored. Without the ability to move on their own, arguments with his leader had lost some of their entertainment value. Granted, watching that infuriating boy take the brunt of the assault was somewhat satisfying, but it just wasn't the same.

"Well obviously he is not deactivated now," the gunmetal fighter growled and though it was impossible, the humans could have sworn that they saw those crimson optics flash for a second.

Starscream radiated an attitude of nonchalance that clearly indicated he would have shrugged if he could.

"Deactivated or not, it hardly matters. His fleshling is incompetent," he retorted.

"FOOL!" Megatron snarled. "That human is controlling him. Understanding what skills they may possess as a team is imperative. We cannot afford to underestimate them."

"So why not engage them in battle then?" the seeker growled back, voice raising an octave. "Why keep wasting our resources on random cities?"

"Yes," Demetri rasped in agreement. "Why keep throwing darts at a map? What's the purpose?" he was rewarded with a hard slap across the face.

"Do not question Lord Megatron!" the _father_ snarled at his _son_.

"No," Megatron interrupted. "It is a fair question." There was silence for a moment, all attention turned on the towering hulk of a mech looming over them. "The most effective assault requires close scrutiny of the enemy." The wheezy voice rasped out. "With our current limitations and lack of resources we cannot afford to attack and fail. They have energon at their disposal, synthetic though it may be, and can far outlast us in a siege. If and when we attack, it must be an assured victory."

"So the randomized attacks," Demetri began.

"…are to draw them out, study them and lull them into a false sense of security; make them overconfident in their abilities," Starscream finished.

"Brilliant, my Lord!" the Doctor gushed.

"So how long do we watch for? Until we rust?" Starscream sneered.

"Patience, Starscream," Megatron retorted like a parent lecturing a child, though there was a definite underlying tone of annoyance. "The time will come soon enough." But the jet wasn't about to let it drop that easily.

"Why not just kill the little cretin?" he asked. "Why make such a big production out of it?"

"Starscream, you incompetent fool!" Megatron snarled. "An assassination would prompt an investigation. The human government will not stand for the murder of one of their warriors, especially one so specialized."

"She almost died once before without any such snooping around."

"Because it was a product of her own stupidity!" Megatron fell quiet for a moment, obvious attempting to reign in his temper. "Starscream, it would be in your best interest to learn when not to question your betters, it only reveals your own shortcomings."

The jet's presence surged and Demetri thought that, had he had control over his own body, he would have puffed out his chest and drawn his wings back like an angry bird.

"You are the one that is incompetent, _Mighty _Megatron!" he shrieked sarcastically, voice echoing painfully to the two humans who both covered their ears despite the fact that the noise was not physically tangible.

"If _I_ were in charge, we would have had the use of our bodies back by now!"

Megatron gave a booming snarl.

"SILENCE!"

And, surprisingly, the jet obeyed.

"We will continue with the set plan," Megatron ordered, his voice daring Starscream to argue again, although truly there wasn't much he could have done even if the surly jet had retorted. "For now we watch and bide our time."

"As you command, _my Lord_," Starscream replied, no small amount of sarcasm in his voice.

* * *

Eliza was busy polishing Optimus's arm, balancing on the railing of the cherry picker, when Noodles and Bluestreak finally returned. It was sunset now, the orange light setting the truck's red finish alight, and they were the only two humans in the hanger.

"That was _SO_ cool!" Noodles gushed as soon as the gray chest plate opened to let him out. Eliza felt herself deflate at his excited gaze. She'd spent the day formulating a speech to give the boy when he returned about the dangers of being a pilot and how it was no place for a child of his age. However, one look at that face had her reconsidering her words. Bluestreak, too, felt a hundred times lighter then when they had first met. This was obviously beneficial for both of them.

"I take it you had fun?" she called, forcing a smile. Both he and Bluestreak began rapidly talking at once about the day, how both of them hadn't missed a single shot and how impressed the others had been. Eliza had to stop and close her eyes under the bombardment of simultaneous physical and mental sound.

"Whoa. Whoa. One at a time!" she laughed, putting up her hands.

Noodles paused thoughtfully and glanced up at Bluestreak's blank face, halfway through the act of carefully climbing down the seams in the mech's leg to the ground.

"How's come you can hear him when no one else but me can?" he asked. "I can't hear any of them either…" he added, looking at the other fighters lined up in the room, silent sentries.

Eliza looked down at the polishing cloth in her hands, running her fingers over it for a moment.

'Well?' Optimus prompted her. He sounded just as intrigued as to what she might say as Noodles looked.

'I'm deciding what to say; how much to tell him,' she replied silently. She still hadn't told the others about Prowl's conclusion that she now possessed the Autobot Matrix of Leadership, and she didn't think any of the mechs had told their pilots either. Even now, she wasn't entirely sure what it all meant for her and wasn't really comfortable with spreading the word until she did.

Bluestreak began talking again, almost to himself. "You know, I've never really been able to talk to Optimus Prime either, even though I could communicate with everyone else…and I don't think anyone else has ever really talked to him either…is his comm. busted?"

Eliza began polishing a new spot gently. "Not exactly," she answered Bluestreak aloud. At his surprise and small feeling of hurt she leaned over to grin at him past Optimus. "He's just shy," she assured him. At that there was a burst of indignation from the giant mech beside her and she laughed. "Well it's mostly true," she argued. Glancing at the sky again she hit the button on the cherry picker to take her down and joined Noodles on the floor.

"Come on. Wanna go join the others for dinner?" she asked him. He grinned and hurried to his locker to replace his helmet, babbling along about how hungry he was and how he'd skipped lunch. Eliza just smiled and shook her head as she followed him.

"Hey!" Bluestreak called after them. "You never answered my question!"

"Ask Ratchet or Wheeljack. They understand it more than I do anyway," she called back, waving to the mechs as they stepped into the elevator.

* * *

Louis bit into an apple, examining the fruit carefully as he chewed.

"Yer supposed to eat it, not analyze it Louie," Izzy teased. He reddened and ducked his head as Eliza and Noodles joined them.

"It came from your family's synthesizers. You'd think you'd know what it tastes like," Nick put in.

Louis shrugged. "My grandma always says it's not right…I just want to figure out what she means," he murmured.

Both Eliza and Noodles looked up. "Wait…what's your last name?" Eliza asked, realizing she'd never thought to ask.

"Jameson, didn't you know?"

They looked at each other. "Jameson Pasteurizing," they said together. Since the war had devastated the planet's resources nearly 20 years ago the chief source of fruits and vegetables came from the Jameson synthesizing plants." Professor Jameson was widely known as "Mother Nature's Savior."

"You're Professor Jameson's son?" Noodles asked. Louis dropped his gaze to his plate, pushing some corn around with his fork.

"…Yeah."

"So how was the shooting range?" Tommy asked Noodles by way of changing the subject. Immediately he launched into a long-winded retelling of the day, despite the fact that most of those present had witnessed it firsthand.

"I think I liked him better when he didn't talk," Jason muttered beside Eliza. She just rolled her eyes.

"Just drop it, Jason," she said, smiling at the excited boy. "You should be glad he's talking at all." He snorted. "I wouldn't mind so much if he actually had anything _to say_," he retorted. Eliza just shook her head.

"Is there anything that _doesn't_ annoy you?" she wondered.

"Painting," Nick put in before receiving a facefull of mashed potatoes.

"Shut up, numb nuts," his brother growled.

"You paint?" Eliza asked. The more surly twin shot her a glare that clearly said he did not want to discuss it. The glare, however, was somewhat dampened as a gob of peach cobbler collided with the side of his face, courtesy of Nick.

Dinner was quickly concluded after that.

* * *

Demetri sat alone in the small, windowless room. The cramped walls were barely big enough for his rusted cot. He was slowly chewing a piece of stale bread, the only part of his dinner he'd managed to save, while favoring the right side of his jaw which still ached from the earlier impact with his "father's" fist.

Usually when he was at base Demetri found at least some comfort in the two other pilots there that were relatively close to his age, if a good five or so years older. Lance, the tall, quiet pilot of the blue Starscream-clone was usually utterly unobtrusive and surprisingly good for lending an ear and offering advice. Keith, the black and purple Starscream-clone pilot, was loud, crude, and loved to push Demetri's buttons. And did he ever know how. Even despite this, however, Demetri was usually in a playful enough mood to take Keith in stride and even generate some good comebacks in their verbal spars.

Lately, however, he just hadn't had the heart for it. Not since the day when he'd seen Eliza…He'd been something like an unofficial big brother to her growing up. Then had come the day when the Doctor had adopted him. None of them had ever questioned that his life wouldn't be better. It had to be. Anything was better than the orphanage. He had quickly learned how false that was. From the first day the Doctor had brought him home, when he'd met the metal giants and been held down while the syringe was pushed into his arm for the first time it was a nightmare. They'd been short one pilot, hence the reason for his adoption.

He sighed and rolled over onto his side. At least the influence of the cursed drug had dulled a bit for the day, leaving Starscream's presence an irritation itch at the back of his mind instead of the throbbing ache it usually was. The boy curled up, pulling the scrap of moth-eaten, too-thin blanket over his shoulder with a sigh. He closed his eyes, willing himself, as he always did, not to dream.

* * *

Eliza turned over on her other side, glaring at Optimus's ankle from her small cot.

"Having trouble recharging?" he asked. She sighed and shifted to lie on her back, staring at the stars through the glass ceiling.

"Something's been bothering me," she said out loud, thereby opening it up for any of the fighters to answer, not just Optimus. "Am I the only one that's realized that none of this makes any sense?" she asked sitting up.

"Ah been thinkin' that since we woke up here," Ironhide grumbled.

"No, seriously," Eliza cut in. "I've been here for three months and we've only left the academy twice—and it definitely doesn't make any sense that they'd send us to do reconnaissance. We're not trained in Search and Rescue." She looked at Prowl, expecting him to support her argument for the sake of logic. She drew the blankets closer around herself, frown deepening. "I'm not sure that they really expected us to find anything…"

Abruptly she stood and began to pace, the blankets still wrapped around her shoulders.

"And what about the night when I was attacked," she continued. "That General, Amelia's dad, he said something about some terrorist attack that never happened," she shook her head. "I don't pretend to know anything about politics but a lot of this just doesn't seem right. It's like they just throw a mission at us every once in a while to keep us busy and everyone just accepts it and no one asks questions. I mean, Amelia's so caught up in playing soldier and none of the others really want to fight in the first place…"

She stopped before Prowl, gazing up at him earnestly. He was the tactician. Surely he had his own more coherent theory on this.

"Something bigger is going on here, right? Or am I just being paranoid?" she wondered. Silence rang both in her mind and in the air around her. Everyone was waiting for Prowl's answer.

"It's certainly suspicious, and I have noticed it myself," he admitted after a moment.

Eliza opened her mouth, closed it quickly as if thinking better of speaking, and then peered at the mechs' gathered in the room before trying again.

"At the orphanage," she murmured softly, staring at her bare feet," sometimes they would go for weeks, even months at a time, without doing anything to us. The older kids always said it was to lure us into a false sense of security. They thought we were easier to handle that way." She raised her face to look at Prowl again. "That's how I feel now. When I came here I was wincing all the time, ready for a blow that never came, and I can't shake the feeling that it's going to finally hit now, when I'm daring to relax a bit."

Prowl gave a thoughtful hum that ghosted through her mind and she tilted her head, waiting patiently for his conclusion.

"The only scenario that makes any sense is if the Cons and their human partners were somehow working with the human government in charge of this place."

"But why would they go an' do somethin' like that?" Jazz piped up. Prowl sighed in response.

"Yes, that is the only problem with that scenario: motive. As far as we know the human government has nothing to gain from a partnership with Megatron, especially one that compromises their 'secret weapons,'" Prowl muttered.

Eliza bit her lip. He would know, because _Amelia_ would know, if there was anything happening on the level of a potential coup. After meeting Amelia's father, be it only once, she couldn't imagine him letting something like that happen under his nose without noticing. She glanced at Bluestreak, who she could feel was deep in whatever passed for their sleep, no doubt tired out by the day's activities.

Unfortunately, none of the other conscious mechs had anything productive to add to the discussion and eventually she wandered back to her bed to try again to sleep. She was still convinced that something was going to happen, that it was only a question of when and how bad the damage would be, but she let her mind drift as he sought the release of sleep.

"Hey Sunstreaker," she mumbled eventually, more than half asleep, "did you know Jason paints?" She never heard his answer, if he even gave one.


End file.
